BKII CHPT VII After the Ambush Starts the Culling
by wanderingchat
Summary: Cat has been attacked by LOAN following the rally. As Tig and The Sons wait to see if she survives, plans are implemented to remove the threat of LOAN from Charming while keeping those associated with the club safe from retribution.


The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists.

All original characters that are not part of the SOA universe are products of my own imagination. Any similarities to real persons are purely coincidence. Much thanks and love go to:

My DH (who is thankfully very much alive!), for taking the time to offer insights and for writing down the first husband's thoughts and feelings in confronting Tig Trager for the first and only time. Also for having the love in his heart to allow me _all _my little obsessions and not feeling threatened by them. We've had 15 great years together; here's to many more!

My best friend (who does live in FL) for kicking my ass when needed and for love throughout these many years. My unofficial 'Godchild', her daughter, for her love as well.

The Indy Tarts and Tartans fan group, for giving encouragement, even though there was little GB involvement. Tignation, Samcro forums, SOA and Kim Coates Yahoo Groups, Facebook and Sons of who also took an interest and added their encouragement. You know who you are.

Kim Sisk (Sisko44 on , check out her SOA/Tig Story called 'Sapphires and Whiskey'. It rocks!) for the wonderful cover art. I love it!

Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager.

* * *

**Charming Pawse **

**Book II **

**Chapter VIII**

**After the Ambush **

**Starts **

**the Cullling**

Tig's Dyna had stopped directly behind the PT as they waited for the red light to change. He could barely hear the stereo blaring John Mellencamp's _Rural Route_ over the Harley's idling engine. He glanced at Cat's reflection in the driver's side rear mirror and noticed she was pulling at the shoulder belt.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" he grinned and flashed his headlights to get her attention. Her head turned to the rear view mirror and he knew she was glaring at him. He laughed at her covert 'digital communications', waggling his finger in mock warning. She moved her hand away from the shoulder strap and draped her right hand over the top of the steering wheel while her left disappeared from view.

'She's prolly flipping me off again. I'll take her up on that invite once we're home!' his smile widened while he considered the various RSVP's he would issue. He gave her a thumbs up, certain she was muttering colorful metaphors about him.

There was no other sounds around them except for the car stereo and his bike engine. He glanced around out of habit, but didn't notice anything suspicious or out of place. A check in his own rear view mirrors didn't reveal any potential dangers coming up behind them.

The light changed and as usual, she waited a couple of seconds before starting across the intersection. He shifted into gear to follow. As the PT entered the intersection, the roar of a powerful engine roaring towards the intersection disturbed the quiet.

Tig glanced off to his right towards the sound to see a 24 foot truck barreling down the street, heading straight for the center of the Cruiser. The PT rapidly accelerated in an attempt to avoid a collision.

"CAT!" the roar tore from his throat at the same gut wrenching moment the truck slammed into the passenger doors of the car. The truck and car careened to the opposite side of the road and up over the curb, not stopping until the driver's side of the PT collided with a metal light pole. The truck's engine roared as Alex sat on his bike, momentarily frozen in horror. He didn't even feel the bike lurch as his hand relaxed on the clutch, killing the engine.

The smell of burnt rubber and spilled, hot motor fluids – coolant, oil, gas, and transmission – filled the air along with the sound of the truck's engine. 'Fucking thing had to be doin' sixty!' He managed to settle his bike on its' kickstand and dismounted, tossing his helmet aside. He ran towards the truck, drawing his gun from his holster.

The truck's driver had pulled out his own gun and taken aim at the unconscious driver when he saw Tig's approach in his side view mirror. He threw the gun onto the seat bench beside him, threw the gearshift into reverse and smashed his foot on the accelerator.

"What the Hell are you doing? Weston said to make sure she bought it!" His passenger cried, leaning out the passenger door window and pointing his own gun at the mangled vehicle.

"Shut up! Want that asshole biker to hear you? And put that gun down!" The driver jerked a thumb at Trager's reflection in the side mirror. The truck had no trouble backing from the Cruiser, despite the damage it had inflicted.

Tig had to dive to one side to avoid being run over by the backing truck. He rolled to one knee and began firing as the truck pelted back onto the street, continuing off in the same direction it had been traveling before it hit the PT.

Tig thought he heard bullets hit, but the truck kept moving. The license plate had been removed and there were no identifying numbers on it. 'This was no fucking accident!' He pulled out his cellphone and dialed 911.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"A 24 foot rental truck without license plate or identifying numbers just T-boned my lady's car. Send an ambulance and Hale or Unser!" He spat the location of the accident, adding, "The damn truck was lying in wait and deliberately blew the red!"

He hung up on the 911 operator and pressed another button on the cell; the speed dial to the clubhouse. After several rings, Prospect answered.

"Call Clay, tell him Cat's been ambushed! A 24 footer just T-boned her and left the scene!" He gave the location and disconnected the call, shoving the phone in his pocket.

'Where the Hell is the ambulance?' he thought. The only sound was the Cruiser's stereo_. _He ran to the front of the crumpled car but couldn't see inside clearly; the windshield was a spiderweb of cracks. He could vaguely make out that Cat was lying slumped against the driver side door, the hated seat belt still in place. Her glasses were missing. Blood poured from her nose onto her shirt.

"Damn! Please let her be OK," he beseeched Whoever might be listening or watching as he ran around the car, taking in the damage and listening for oncoming sirens or engines.

The passenger side of the car was demolished, while the center of the driver's side rear door was embedded in the pole. The car had no side airbags, and the front ones hadn't deployed. The hatchback and the engine compartment were the only parts that seemed intact.

John Mellencamp's voice shared his thoughts:

_"Here's my prayer_

_Loud and clear _

_From the rural route _

_Forgive us Lord_

_Get us out of here_

_Off this rural route _

_Oh merciful Father_

_Show us thy will_

_Here _

_on the_

_rural_

_route. . ."_

The drums and guitar came to an abrupt end. To make the scene more eerie, the battery died and the headlights cut out at the same moment.

In the ensuing silence, Tig heard a lone engine idling behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to find a green older model Ford SUV sitting where the Cruiser had been just moments ago. Weston was grinning at him, his face filled with evil triumph at the sight of the wreckage.

Tig's gun was still in his hand. He raised it and fired directly at Weston. The Ford was pulling away and gaining speed as Tig opened fire. The bullets shattered the Ford's taillight covers instead of Weston's ugly head.

Tig put the gun away in his holster and returned to the battered PT. The doors were locked but he didn't think he'd need his key. The force of the impact had shattered the passenger front door window. He reached in to try the electric lock. It wouldn't work, so he pulled the lock button up. He was still unable to open the door; the impact had damaged the latch mechanism and the door wouldn't budge.

"Shit!" He hollered in frustration.

Cat lay quietly against the driver door. 'I hope she's only knocked out.' He had to go back to his bike for the key so he could open the hatchback. That worked, but when he tried to push the back seats down, they refused to move.

"Fuck!" He climbed over the upright back seat and crouched behind her. He laid a hand against her throat, praying for a pulse. 'Skin feels cool, but that's normal. Where's her damn pulse?" He moved his fingers along the side of her throat, and finally felt the throbbing indicating the blood was moving in her veins. He left his hand there, counting, but he couldn't see his watch so he wasn't sure how many beats per minute he counted. 'She has a pulse. She's breathing. She's alive.'

He didn't like the sight of her injuries. There was shattered glass from the broken windows all over her body and hair. Her face was cut and bruised. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but a trickle of blood was oozing from a corner of her slightly open mouth.

He noticed the rear view mirror had come off the windshield. 'Likely that's what hit her.' He couldn't see her left hand at all, her right had fallen onto the center console and rested near the gear shift.

"Hang in there, baby!" he cried, climbing out of the hatch and grabbing her tool box. 'She might have something in it that I can use to pry the door.' He opened it and began pawing through the contents. "Where the Hell are those fucktards?" Without thinking of it, he used her favorite descriptive phrase for people who irritated her.

His inquiry was rewarded with the faint but encouraging sound of sirens. His questing fingers found a large, heavy screwdriver. 'This might work. I've gotta get to her!' He didn't know what he'd do once he got the door open, whether he should try to move her or let the medics do it. He only knew he had to do _something. _"Cat, can you hear me, baby? Wake up and talk to me, flip me off, something!"

He slid the screwdriver between the door and the frame and started to push and pull. He thought he heard a slight moan through the driver side rear window, which was also broken. He stopped working on the door and listened for a moment. "Cat, say something! Speak to me! I'm here!" She didn't move or respond to him. Her eyes remained closed. He resumed working with the screwdriver and eventually pried the door open.

The welcome roar of Harley engines met his ears. 'About fucking time!' He looked up to see Prospect and Chibs pull up, park their bikes and run up to him, shock and dismay on their faces.

"Who the Hell did this?" Prospect asked.

"Weston." Tig spat the word out as if he'd tasted something foul. "The fucktard just drove by looking pleased with himself. I'm not waiting any longer. I gotta get her out of there!"

"The medics are on their way, Tig!" Prospect exclaimed, grabbing onto the rider's arms to hold him back. "They know how to handle this kind of thing. You could do more harm if you try to move her!"

Chibs stood directly in front of Tig, blocking his access while Prospect held on to him. Tig fought against them like a wild man.

"Easy bruther!" Chibs hollered. "The kid's right! This kind of thin' is way beyond me knowledge. Is she breathin' – does she 'ave a pulse?"

Tig took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down so he could answer Chibs. "Yeah. Both. Anyone got a rag or something I can use to clean off her face? At least I can do that!"

Prospect removed his cut and then his t-shirt, the latter of which he offered to Trager.

"Thanks, man." He cut the shirt into strips with his knife while Prospect retrieved a bottle of water from his bike. He removed the cap and handed the bottle to Trager, who soaked some of the strips with it. Then he crouched in the open door and began cleaning the blood from his lady's face.

There was a large, angry lump on her forehead, just above her eyebrows. 'Yeah, the mirror hit her smack in the head. Likely broke her nose.' He carefully removed as much of the glass as he could from her body and hair. Her nose was swollen and he was relieved to note that blood was no longer coming out of her mouth. 'Bleeding might've been from loose teeth,' he mused. 'Happens to me every time I've been in a fight. Shit! This must be how she feels when I've taken a beating. I've never felt so helpless and scared before.'

He thought he heard his name escape her lips. It was a slight sound, just a brief sigh. He bent his ear to her mouth, but could only feel her breath against his ear. "Talk to me, baby! I'm here!" he pleaded again. "Shit! Please wake up!"

The sirens were coming closer and he heard more Harleys. He paid little attention to the new arrivals, his focus entirely on trying to make his lady more comfortable.

Chibs met the newly arrived riders and told them what he'd learned.

"Weston masterminded this?" Clay asked in astonishment. He didn't think the goon had that much sense. "It looks bad."

"Yeah. She's unconscious," Prospect replied. "Tig wanted to get her out of there; we stopped him. He's trying to clean the blood off her face. He says she has a pulse."

They found a small measure of comfort in that news.

A fire truck and ambulance arrived, followed seconds later by Unser and Hale. Though it had seemed to Tig like it had been hours since his call to 911, it'd actually been less than three minutes.

The firefighters unraveled a hose from the truck, spraying underneath the PT to keep the fuel tank cool. The medics brought out their equipment on a stretcher, medical gloves already on their hands. They had one obstacle: Tig was still crouching next to his lady and wouldn't move out of their way.

Clay stepped forward and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "C'mon, Tig. Let the pros do their thing. You're only going to be in the way."

He reluctantly allowed Clay to lead him from Cat's side. He stood just far enough out of the way for the emergency workers to do their job, but close enough where she could see him if she came to.

Hale and Unser walked over to stand with the assembled riders. Tig curtly answered their questions but his eyes never left the still form in the car.

The emergency personnel worked quickly but carefully to secure Cat. A cervical collar was placed around her neck.

He pinched his nose between the fingers of one hand and shook his head. 'Damn things are fuckin' uncomfortable; if she were awake, she'd argue with 'em. Why won't she wake up and tell 'em off?'

The workers covered her with a blanket while one of the firefighters used rescue equipment to pry the dash from her legs. "Her legs are clear!" One of the medics called out.

'Cat is gonna be pissed about that,' he thought. 'She loves that car.' He wished the medics would say whether her legs had been crushed or if there were any broken bones.

Clay called Dog, who was on emergency call that night. "Bring out the flatbed, Dog. Cat's car is a total. You'll need to take Tig's bike with you. It's OK, so is he." Clay knew without asking that Tig would ride in the ambulance with his wife.

"Is Cat going to be OK?" Dog inquired worriedly.

"Don't know. Just get out here as soon as you can."

"The car will need to be taken to HQ." Unser advised Clay. "If there is any chance that Weston caused this, there might be clues on the car that will help us."

"I already told you, man, the damn truck didn't leave anything except this mess!" Tig snarled. "The license plate was removed and the bastards painted over any markings that would identify it! I saw two Aryans in the cab, a GMC. Not more than a minute later, Weston came by with a gloating grin on his face!"

"Put an APB out on Weston, and on the truck that Tig's described," Unser quietly ordered his deputy. "It's not been that long, there might still be a chance of finding either."

* * *

Once the rental truck left the scene of the accident, the driver headed directly for the car wash Weston had chosen as their meeting point. He heard gunshots and the sounds of metal pinging the truck.

"Weston wanted that chick dead," his companion noted. "He'll be pissed."

"Ain't no way that little tin can would have protected that broad. Besides, did you see the size of the knife on that guy's belt? I'm not waiting around to find out if he knows how to use it! He also had a gun. If you want to go back and check, feel free. I'm rather fond of living, thank you very much."

Weston was waiting impatiently for them at the car wash. It was located at a truck stop, and set up so that over-the-road truckers could wash their vehicles. There were ramps to enable truckers to reach the tops of their vehicles, and they could work on the rental easily. He motioned for the driver to enter the large cubicle. When the truck was inside, he began hosing down the back of the truck.

"Let's get to work," he snapped, indicating the rags and the cans of paint remover. "Be careful not to mess up the original paint. This stuff should come off easily."

The new paint had only been sprayed on and not baked dry. It came off easily with the paint remover and the power washer the car wash supplied. The truck was soon restored to its original color and identifying markings. As they worked, the driver examined the truck, but didn't see any bullet holes. There was no damage to the truck from the impact, nor any paint transfer.

"Did you kill her?" Weston inquired once the truck was clean.

"As far as we could tell, AJ," the driver replied.

"What's that supposed to mean? Either you did or you didn't!"

The driver glared at Weston. "The hit was hard, we had it up to 60 at the point of impact. The car was wrapped around a pole. That biker was right on us, had his gun drawn. We took off. There's no way she could've survived the impact."

"You were supposed to make certain of it." Weston glared at them for a few moments before adding, "Trager shot at me in passing as well."

The rags and cans were placed in plastic garbage bags and loaded into the driver's personal truck, which Weston had driven. "Either the cops or the motorcycle club will be looking for me. Take this stuff out into the country and burn it," he ordered.

"I thought you said this was going to be as much fun as raping that Morrow gal," The other Aryan muttered. "I'm still waiting for the fun part."

"Get the Hell out of here!" Weston snarled, glaring angrily at the henchman.

He watched the pickup truck carrying his cronies leave the car wash. He waited by the entrance to see if the police or the Sons would stop them. When he saw the taillights of the pickup disappear without incident, he knew the coast was clear and he could return the rental.

Weston climbed into the cab of the rental truck and drove sedately from the truck stop. He drove the truck to the nearby rental agency, a direct competitor of Unser's, wiped down the steering wheel and the keys, and placed the keys in the after hours slot. The rental had been paid for in cash, so he had no reason to return.

Weston walked the short distance to his Ford, satisfied with the work he'd done that night. Even if the cops were to bring him in for questioning, there was nothing to incriminate him or The Cause.

A patrol car passed Weston as his SUV rolled down Main Street near Zobelle's shop. In seconds, the light bar on top of the car flashed to life and the cruiser made a perfect U-turn, coming up behind Weston and tripping it's siren for him to pull over.

Weston brought his vehicle to a stop in front of '_Impeccable Smokes_', put the vehicle in park and turned off the ignition.

"Keep your hands where I can see them!" called the officer over the car's loudspeaker. "Use your right hand, roll down the window and open the door from the outside!"

Weston complied with the officer's demand, and stepped out of his Ford, his hands held high in the air.

"Turn around, keep your hands in the air, and start walking backwards toward the sound of my voice!"

Again, Weston quickly complied with the orders, taking one step at a time until the officer told him to halt and get down on the ground. Weston lay on his belly, his arms spread out.

The cop kept his firearm trained on Weston as he moved slowly forward, removing his cuffs from his weapons belt. The officer dropped to his knees, applied one cuff to one of Weston's hands, drawing it behind his back, then took Weston's other hand and cuffed it with the other hand. He assisted Weston to his feet and led him back to the patrol car after patting the LOAN member down.

"What's the charge, officer?"

"You're wanted for questioning about an auto accident earlier this evening."

"Are all potential witnesses arrested like this?"

"Only the ones suspected of causing them," the officer replied, his voice dripping with polite disdain. "Watch your head, please," he added, assisting Weston into the back seat.

"Officer, my keys are still in the ignition. Please secure my vehicle; I really don't want anything to happen to it."

The patrol officer slammed the door shut, walked to the SUV and retrieved the keys, locking the vehicle for safe measure. Then he returned to his car and radioed dispatch that he'd caught Weston and was on his way to HQ.

* * *

Cat heard the roaring engine and squealing tires off to her right at the same moment the oncoming vehicle's bright lights bathed her profile. 'What the Hell? He's runnin' the light! Damn!' she knew she to either try to stop the car or floor it. Her foot mashed the gas pedal and the _MF6_ responded in a desperate attempt to escape.

"CAT!" she heard Alex's roar of warning and pain at the moment the front end of the large truck smashed into the center of her car. Centrifugal force sent her car flying across the road. She felt the wheels bounce over the curb, then felt the Cruiser hit a telephone pole.

"God, no!" she thought at the same moment she screamed, "Alex!" Her cry was drowned out in the sounds of crushing metal, breaking glass, and the whine of the truck's engine. The stereo was still playing as the PT crashed against the pole.

Glass fell all over her from both windows as she tried to raise her hands to protect herself. Her left arm was caught under her side, imprisoned against the door. The rear view mirror struck her in the middle of her forehead, knocking her out.

* * *

The medics finally succeeded in freeing Cat from the mangled cabin of the PT. Tig had stood vigil through the entire process, his eyes never leaving his wife's pale features. Her face was turning several different colors. Her eyes remained closed.

He wished she were awake. 'She's been out awhile; that scares me more than clowns and dolls. That's a phobia I can deal with. How the Hell do I deal with this cold fear in my gut?"

The medics had strapped Cat to a backboard and carried her to the stretcher. He stalked up to the side of the stretcher. "I'm her old man," he informed them. "I'm going with you." His grim expression allowed no argument. The stretcher was loaded in the ambulance and Tig and the medic climbed in after it.

The driver and Unser shut the doors, then the driver climbed into the cab. The ambulance rolled away towards the hospital with its' siren screaming.

Clay walked up to stand beside Unser, watching the ambulance speed away. "This is not good," he murmured, scrubbing his face with both hands.

"No, it's not," Unser agreed. "Cat's a sweet lady. She's done a lot for this town. She didn't deserve this. Nobody deserves to be nearly killed for telling the truth."

"You don't have to convince me," Clay said. His heart hurt. Gemma, Otto, Chibs, and now Cat. It was obvious that anyone associated with the club was a target for the League. 'There _has_ to be a way to keep those we care about safe until Weston, Zobelle, and the League are out of Charming – permanently.'

Hale walked up to them. "One of the patrols just picked up Weston. They're heading to the station."

"Good timing," Unser stated. "It would've torn Tig up to have to decide whether to go with his lady or to the station about Weston." He turned to Clay and added, "Want to come along?"

"Later. There's some things I need to do."

Dog had arrived with the flatbed while Cat was being freed from the wreckage. He quietly loaded Tig's Dyna onto the front of the flatbed, and located the helmet Tig had tossed aside. Once the Harley was secured, he stood waiting and watching with the rest of the Sons. His normally stoic face reflected the pain and hurt he felt. 'Damn! Why did this happen to her?' It was a question shared by all the Sons assembled there.

With Cat's removal from the car completed, Dog set to work extricating the PT from the pole. He backed the flatbed to the Cruiser and connected the chains and pulleys to it, then started the winch motor. There was a thunk and clatter as the battered PT was pulled from the pole. There wasn't much of the car that didn't look like red crumpled aluminum foil. As the car moved inch by slow inch onto the truck's bed, the men realized on their own that it was a total loss. They hoped Tig's lady wasn't in similar straits.

* * *

The first thing Cat was aware of was pain. Intense, searing pain that felt like millions of needles stabbing her at once. She heard Alex calling her name and tried to open her eyes or speak. Both actions hurt too much. She couldn't get very much air in her lungs without it hurting and the darkness reclaimed her.

She rallied briefly when she felt something cool and wet against her face. Listening was one of the few actions that didn't hurt. She heard Alex begging her to wake up. She tried again to speak to him, to assure him she was OK, but only managed a light whisper. She could smell tobacco and coffee on his breath that drifted over her face. She tried again to reach out to touch him; the pain chased her back into the darkness.

* * *

Clay rode straight home from the scene of the ambush. He needed to tell Gemma of his decision to go on lock down before he started making calls for backup.

Gemma had made coffee, ironically some of the whiskey blend from _Charming Pawse._ She'd added a generous helping of the real thing, knowing he would need it.

She met him at the back door with a hug and a kiss. "You look awful, baby."

He accepted her embrace, gaining strength and support from it. "Not as bad as Cat. It's bad, baby, it's real bad."

"How's Tig taking it?"

"Scared," he sipped the coffee, appreciating the additional liquid courage. "You wouldn't know it to look at him, though. On the outside, he looks like he wants to take on the world. Prospect and Chibs had a Hell of a time keeping him from removing her from the car on his own."

"Shit! It figures. Should we go to the hospital and wait with him?"

"Later," Clay replied, sitting heavily in his chair at the dining room table. "Tig says Weston was behind the ambush."

Gemma sat down next to him, reached out and took a swig of the coffee for herself. "Weston set it up? I didn't think he had the brains!"

"It's possible that he was acting on Zobelle's orders. Doesn't matter who ordered it. What does matter is that no one connected to us is safe right now."

"We're going on lock down."

It wasn't a question, but Clay nodded an affirmative. "This situation is more than Redwood can handle alone. I'm calling in the charters and nomads for help."

Gemma lit a cigarette, inhaled, and blew the smoke out. "What are you gonna tell Tig?"

"Nothing. He's where he needs to be right now. I'm not telling him until Cat wakes up. She deserves that much from us."

Gemma nodded her approval. "What can I do?"

"We'll need provisions for an indefinite period. You'll be in charge of comfort, naturally. I'm gonna have to put Piney in charge of security for now."

Gemma nodded again, her mind already running a checklist of the supplies that would be needed. "I'll get started first thing in the morning."

Clay dug his cellphone out of his pocket. "I'll start making the necessary calls. Better tell Jax and Tara; we'll need her for medical."

Gemma laid her hands on his, squeezing them in comfort and support. He laid his head on her hands and sighed wearily. "No one should've been hurt. Not Chibs, or Otto, or Cat and _especially_ not you. No one else is gonna get hurt, so help me."

Gemma lightly stroked his hair, wishing she could wipe this new nightmare away. Clay raised his head and took a deep breath before digging his cell phone from his pocket. Gemma got up to retrieve her own in order to contact Tara.

* * *

Tara was in the shower while Jax was putting Abel down for the night. They'd both enjoyed the rally. 'I knew it was gonna be different from the usual karaoke nights,' Jax thought, watching his son burrow into the crib mattress. 'She really put it to Zobelle and his gang. Nice of Cat to raise money for our defense fund as well. She really comes through for us.'

He heard Tara's cellphone ring. His was in his pocket and set on vibrates. 'Might be important, even if Tara's on suspension. Better go answer it,' he walked into the bedroom and picked up the phone. "Dr. Knowles phone."

"It's me, baby. Where's Tara?"

Jax grinned at the sound of his mother's voice. "She's in the shower. What are you two planning now?"

Gemma closed her eyes for a moment. 'They don't know yet. Shit!' She took a deep breath and replied, "Honey, Cat's been hurt. She was ambushed by a large truck; Tig believes Weston had something to do with it. She's at St. Thomas."

"Shit! How bad?"

Tara walked into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around her body, another one over her head; her eyes full of questions. Jax held up a hand to prevent her from speaking as he listened.

"It's bad enough. Tig's went with her in the ambulance. Prospect and Juice are en route. We're going over in a bit. Clay's calling in the charters and nomads."

"We're going on lock down."

"Clay feels it's the only way he can keep people safe. He's taking this hard, baby."

"None of this is his fault. Lock down's a good idea. None of us are safe as long as Weston and Zobelle are loose. I'll tell Tara." There was a moment's silence between Mother and Son, then he added, "Should I meet you at the hospital?"

"No, Abel's already settled for the night. You need to stay with Tara; keep them safe." Gemma didn't mention the recent tension that had been going on between Tig and her son since Tig had confessed to Opie and the rest ofthe club about killing Donna.

"You'll keep us posted if anything changes, then. Be careful, Mom. Love you."

"Love you too, baby."

Jax turned off the cell and turned his attention to Tara. "Cat's injured; LOAN's responsible. She's at St. Thomas."

"How bad?"

"Dunno. Bad enough. Mom and Clay are going out. Clay's putting us on lock down tomorrow; you'll need to gather as many medical supplies as you can. I know the suspension won't make that easy."

She nodded. "I have some supplies, but if we're talking about an indefinite period of time, I'll need more."

"Can you get 'em from the hospital?"

Tara shook her head. "Inventories are constantly checked. Anything that's not accounted for on the wards, ER, and operating rooms would call undue attention. I might be able to buy some of the things I need in Oakland or Lodi. I'll go in the morning."

Jax embraced her. "_We'll_ go in the morning. I'm not letting you out of my sight until we're all safe in the clubhouse."

Tara returned the embrace, her body melting against Jax's. 'I wonder, will any of us ever really be safe again?"

* * *

Clay's first call was to Piney. The old man had attended the rally earlier to watch his two grandchildren perform. It was one of the few times Clay had seen Piney smile.

"I need your help, old man," Clay stated as soon as Piney answered his phone.

"Prospect called, told me Cat's hurt. What do you need me to do?"

Clay outlined the upcoming lock down and the part Piney was to play. "No problem, Clay. I'll take care of things." Neither mentioned the recent attempt Piney had made on Clay's life. Right now, the safety of their loved ones was more important. "I'm goin' up to get Mary. She could be a target. See ya in the morning."

Clay allowed Happy's phone to ring several times. The nomad often left his phone in another room and did not believe in voice mail. Clay had to call Happy's number three times in succession before the nomad answered with a loud and angry "What?"

"Lock down tomorrow."

"Clay? What the fuck happened?"

Clay briefed Happy on the ambush. "This has gotten bigger than Redwood can handle."

"No shit! When do you need me?"

"First thing in the morning. I'm putting Piney in charge of security."

"Can't think of a better man than Tig, and I can't see Tig handling that right now."

"He's not gonna know until Cat is awake," Clay replied grimly. "Can you contact Bobby? He's the only one of us that doesn't know what happened. I've gotta call the charters and nomads."

"Will do," Happy replied, breaking the connection.

"That explains why Jax didn't come to us," Quinn, the Nomad president remarked when Clay told him the situation. "I should've known it had to do with LOAN. We'll be there."

Clay made calls to the other charters, including Washington and Nevada. By the time the calls were completed, he'd finished the coffee and was ready to go to the hospital to check on Tig and Cat.

* * *

The SAMTAW president closed his cell as he walked out of the chapel. "Listen up! We're needed in Charming by daylight! They're going on lock down!"

'That's Tiggy's neck of the woods!' The club's Sergeant At Arms looked up from his card game. "What the fuck for?"

"Seems they've got a white hate problem. Big Otto was attacked in Stockton, and LOAN also hurt Gemma and Chibs. Tig's old lady was the latest victim and is critical. Be ready to leave in 30!"

Kozik smiled sardonically. 'Tig has an old lady, eh? I'm definitely not missing this!' He threw his cards on the table. "I'll be back shortly. Goin' to my place to get some stuff." He strode to his Harley, a smile of anticipation on his face. 'This is gonna be fun!'

* * *

Alex sat beside the stretcher, watching the medic make Cat comfortable and get readings on her vitals. The medic placed an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth, then checked her pupils. The left seemed OK as far as Alex could tell from the medic's reaction. When he pried open her right eye, a glob of clotted blood ran down her cheek onto the pillow.

"What the fuck?" Tig was shocked and surprised at the unexpected sight.

"I don't know, sir. It might just be run off from other wounds, it could be from a piece of glass in the eye itself," the medic replied. He placed gauze pads on both eyes and taped the pads in place. "This is a precaution to prevent any further damage in case she wakes up before we get to the hospital," he explained. "Is her skin always this cold?"

Tig nodded. "She's anemic; always complains that she's never warm enough. How bad is it?"

"She might have a concussion, definitely a broken nose and injuries to her left arm. You can see the cuts and bruises. We won't know for sure until we get her to the hospital."

Alex clasped his wife's cold hand in both of his, trying to share his warmth with her. She didn't stir from his touch. 'Doesn't matter how asleep she might be, she's _always _sensed my presence before; responded in some way. I've got a bad feelin' about this.' He squeezed the hand that lay cold and still in his. "I'm here, baby. Please don't leave me."

The ambulance stopped in front of the ER entrance. Tig helped unload the stretcher and walked beside it, still holding her hand. He intended to go with her into the treatment room, just as she had for him, but the medic stopped him.

"You can do more for her out here," the medic quietly answered Tig's unspoken challenge. "You can provide information that will enable the doctors to help her. Let them do what they do best."

Tig glared angrily at the medic for interfering. 'He's right. I'll prolly only be in the way in there.' He gazed longingly at the closed treatment room door, then followed the medic to the front desk. A clerk handed a clipboard of forms to him which he took to the waiting room and began the task of filling them out.

He filled out the forms, providing everything he knew, except for her blood type. 'Hell, I don't even know mine!' When he got to the part about marital status, he wanted to mark 'married', and list himself as 'husband' under relationship for emergency contact/next of kin. 'I can't do that! It'll just put her in more danger!' He reluctantly marked 'single' and listed himself as her immediate emergency contact/next of kin. He listed her insurance information and also noted the club account for good measure.

Once he completed the forms, he returned the clipboard to the desk clerk. "The doctor will be with you shortly, sir," she advised him. "Just wait over there in the lobby."

He didn't know how to wait patiently. He was too nervous to sit in one place for very long, so he paced the floor, glaring at the closed door that separated him from his lady. He wished that Tara was there. 'She'd be able to give me somethin' to go on, even if she wasn't involved Cat's treatment!'

Juice and Prospect hurried into the lobby and found Tig pacing like a caged leopard. They knew nothing had changed with Cat's condition. They stood to one side, staying out of the way as Tig paced and glowered.

Clay and Gemma arrived a few moments after Juice and Half-Sack. 'I expected to find security sitting on him by now!' Clay thought, surprised that Tig was behaving so calmly.

"The PT's on its' way to impound. Unser's going to let Chibs get her personal stuff from it," Clay explained. "The police just need it to see if any clues can be found on the outside. Your bike'll be at the garage."

Trager nodded, his eyes focused on the closed door. He squinted as if he was trying to see through it.

"They can't keep us waiting forever. Someone will be out before long," Gemma assured him.

"She's gonna be OK."

The small group had moved to the waiting lounge near the ER doors. Tig resumed pacing while the others found places to sit. They waited in uneasy silence.

* * *

Cat briefly returned from the darkness' embrace when she felt unfamiliar hands holding her head and something hard and uncomfortable resting against her neck. 'That's not Alex's hands! What the Hell is happening?' She could hear many voices, but the one she most wanted to hear was silent. 'I know he wasn't hurt; that was his breath in my face earlier, and his hands on me. Where are you, Alex?'

She tried to draw breath to call out to him, the pain felt like millions of red – hot needles poking her at once. She tried to open her eyes, the right one felt like a razor was cutting it from inside.

Something hard and flat was placed behind her back and the pain increased as she felt several hands moving her body along the flat surface, then hoist her into the air. The pain was too much for her and she blacked out again.

She became aware again just a few moments later as she felt cool air forcing its' way into her nose and felt plastic covering her nose and mouth. Her left eyelid was pried open and a bright light, smaller than the last light she saw before the crash, shone directly into it. Then she felt fingers pry open her right eye, but couldn't see the light.

Her left hand was being held in two warm ones. She could hear Alex begging her not to leave him. 'I don't intend to, love,' she said. Her words were muffled by the plastic over her mouth.

She felt something soft cover her eye lids, then something sticky was applied to her forehead and cheeks. 'Somethin's wrong; they're covering my eyes!' She tried to move her arms to get that person's attention. Her left hand was imprisoned in Alex's grasp, the right wouldn't move at all. Her efforts made the pain more intense and she slid back into the darkness, away from the pain.

Awareness returned to her again for a brief period. She heard male and female voices around her, and many hands touching her all over. She smelled antiseptic and the air surrounding her was cold.

Once again, she saw a small bright light from one eye, but nothing out of the other. Orders were issued in terse tones. Her body was moved from one hard surface to another. Pain washed over her from the slight jolt of being moved. She heard the 'snip – snip' of scissors and felt cold air on her exposed flesh.

'Damn! They're cuttin' my clothes! I liked that duster, and those velvet pants! Please don't cut the boots!'

"Here's her chart, Dr. Gallagher. The biker that came with her filled out the forms."

'Dr. Gallagher was Chibs' doctor. Guess Tara's not on duty. Probably a good thing to not have someone you know doin' this kind of thing.' She knew Dr. Gallagher had taken good care of Chibs and felt a little less anxious.

There was a brief moment of silence, save for the sounds of scissors cutting and feet moving about. Then she heard a male voice issue orders again. "Keep a running check on her vitals, especially BP, apparently hers is lower than usual. Call her regular doctor, see if they'll get a copy of her records to us. Damn! I'll be glad when things are on computer and more easily accessible! We need an MRI, CT Scan and Ray that left arm along with her skull and spine."

She felt more hands on her, a pinprick in her right arm and fluid coursing into a vein. The doctor continued issuing orders, but his words sounded like a drone of bees in her ears. She felt a sensation of being moved and then didn't feel anything as another fluid poured into the same vein. Complete and utter darkness enfolded her in its' warm embrace.

* * *

The doors to the treatment room opened and a white coated doctor stepped out. The words 'Dr. Gallagher' were stitched across one side of his coat, the hospital logo on the other.

The physician glanced around the lobby, spied the group and noted Tig's reaction to his entrance. 'The nurse said a member of the motorcycle gang filled out her forms.' The doctor walked to the group and asked to speak with Cat Marshall's representative.

Tig stepped forward. "I'm her old man. How is she?"

"And you are?"

"Tig Trager," he snarled. "I signed her in." Clay, Gemma, Juice, and Prospect stood behind him in silent support.

The doctor looked over the group in front of him then turned his focus back to Trager. "I'm Dr. Gallagher. She's stable - at least as stable as we can make her for the moment. She's been seriously injured."

"What the Hell does that mean?" Tig growled.

"Her blood pressure is low, so is her temperature. Most people's vitals spike a bit after something like this. Hers dipped. That concerns us."

"Why the Hell did I fill out those forms, man? I noted her blood pressure has always been low, same for her normal temperature. She has a doctor in town, I put the name and number down for you! Can't you get the records?"

"We have a call in for those, and I saw the information you provided. Her blood pressure reading is much lower than _anyone's_ normal, that's why we're concerned," Gallagher replied.

"How bad are her injuries, Doctor?" Gemma inquired, moving up to stand next to Tig.

"She has cracked ribs, numerous cuts and contusions on her face, arms, and legs. Her left arm is broken. You saw the lump on her forehead and there's another one on the right side of her head, so there could be a concussion. We found a sliver of glass in the right eye. The medic was right to patch both eyes closed."

Trager's shoulders slumped. 'Shit! Can it get any worse?' His hand went to the bridge of his nose and his eyes closed.

Gemma slid a comforting arm around his waist. Tig lowered his head to her shoulder, accepting the supportive gesture. 'He's taking it better than I thought he would,' she rubbed his back in a comforting manner.

"There is some good news. There doesn't seem to be any spinal or pelvic injuries. No broken leg bones. We're going to run tests to make sure there aren't any internal injuries, especially to the brain."

Tig looked up at the doctor, his eyes filled with anguish. "Can I see her?"

Dr, Gallagher shook his head. "Not for awhile yet. An eye surgeon is working to remove the splinter. Then we've got the cat scan and MRI to run. You can be with her as soon as she's taken to a room."

A nurse walked up, holding a large plastic bag which she handed to Trager. "Here are her personal items. I'm afraid that we had to cut most of her clothes off to treat her," the nurse said apologetically.

He opened it to check the contents. There was her bracelet, wallet, the chain with her wedding ring, both cell phones, boot knife and her beloved knee length suede boots. To his relief, the gun wasn't present nor mentioned. 'It's prolly still in the car.' He crushed the top of the bag in his hand as he pulled his cell from a pocket and called Chibs.

"Yeah, bruther?"

"Have you gotten Cat's stuff from the PT yet?"

"Jest gettin' ta it."

"Make sure you find her gun. It'll be locked in the glove compartment or the center console. She always locks it in the car when she drives and can't carry it."

"Will do. How is she?"

"I can't, Chibs. Talk to Gemma," he handed the cell over and walked away. He couldn't talk about Cat's injuries, nor listen to Gemma discuss them with Chibs. Not while he was still trying to grasp the extent of them himself. He paced the length of the hallway and back, the bag with his wife's possessions still clutched in one hand.

Gemma quickly filled in Chibs. "Get here as soon as you can, honey. He needs us."

"Aye, darlin'. I'll be there as soon as I'm done gettin' mi' lady's stuff secured."

"Be careful." She turned off the phone and returned it to Trager, who'd returned to the group.

"Keep me posted, Tig," Clay advised. "I'm going to the police station. They found Weston."

"I'm going with you!" he snarled, his eyes blazed with fiendish anticipation.

"You can't, Tig!" Gemma cried. Juice and Prospect echoed her sentiments.

"No!" Clay barked, his stern voice cutting into the babble of protest. "Your place is here! She needs you! You_ have_ to be here when she wakes. I'll go to police headquarters and check out what Weston has to say. You know Hale won't let you get within spitting distance of Weston."

Tig glared at his friend, his desire to stay put warring with his desire for revenge.

"I know how you feel, man," Clay said, laying firm hands on Trager's shoulders, his gaze intent. "Trust me, _this _is where you need to be."

Tig nodded grimly. Clay was subtly reminding him of his obligations as a husband. 'Clay's right. I need to be here for her.'

Clay turned to the others. "Prospect, stay here with Tig; slug him into submission if you have to. Juice, stay with Gemma, make sure she gets home safe."

"I'll stay here, keep Tig company awhile," Gemma announced.

"I'll see you at home later."

She and Clay embraced briefly, then he left the lobby.

Tig's attention returned to the closed treatment room door, though he knew Cat wasn't in that room any longer. He had no idea where the surgical waiting rooms were located. Prospect and Juice walked over to him and earned a caustic warning, "Don't even _think_ of slugging me," Tig growled.

"Then you're just have to do what Clay said," Prospect replied. "You can't do anything to Weston at the police station."

"I can't do anything here, either!"

"Not yet, but Clay's right, honey," Gemma said softly, walking up next to him. "You need to be here when she wakes up; reassure her that you're there for her."

"You can't be two places at once, especially without a ride," Juice added, "I'm _not _giving you mine!"

"Neither am I!" Prospect said firmly.

Tig paced in helpless anger; his need to act held at bay by circumstances he couldn't control. 'I wanna hurt those who hurt her and can't do a damn thing about it!'

He continued internally battling his warring instincts. His Sergeant at Arms persona wanted to go to the police department and hear what Weston's excuses were while the husband wanted to stay put.

Rev. Bush rushed into the ER lobby and looked around. When he saw Trager standing with the other club members and Gemma, he walked over to join the stricken biker.

"What are you doing here, Reverend?" Trager asked in surprise.

"Windover called me. He heard about the wreck on the police scanner and told me that Cat was hurt. How is she?"

"Not good. The doctor says she's stable, but she's unconscious," Trager replied.

"They're running tests to see if there were any internal and/or brain injuries," Juice added.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" The minister asked.

"There's not much any of us can do. It wasn't an accident. The League caused it."

Bush's eyes widened in horror. "Retaliation for tonight?"

Trager shook his head. "Dunno. Possibly. It was definitely preplanned; the rental truck that hit her was repainted. There's no way that was done right after the newscast."

"Mr. Trager – "

"Tig," he interjected.

"Then call me Chris," Bush replied. "Would you be offended if I offered a prayer?"

Tig shrugged non noncommittally. "That's what you preachers do. I don't know much about it; guess it can't hurt."

"It might help," Bush replied. He gazed inquiringly at Gemma and the two younger men, who nodded their assent. "Y'all don't have to do anything but bow your heads, if you would."

The men and Gemma complied. Bush remained silent for a moment before lifting up a sincere and short prayer. "Father God, we ask that you be with Cat and lead her to healing. We also ask you to provide strength to Tig, who loves her and to these friends who are here to support him; to the club that calls her friend; and to the community she united tonight. Be with all of us in this hour of need and grant Cat your mercy. In Jesus name—Amen."

Tig had to admit that he felt a little better after the prayer ended. 'I've never embraced religion; never felt any need for it or found much comfort from it. He's a lot like Cat's dad. Just puts what we're all thinking into words without making a big show of it."

The little group had taken up a corner of the waiting area, the three men and Gemma had settled into chairs while Tig continued to pace. Gemma watched him for a few minutes, then stood up and fell into step with him, placing her hand in the crook of his arm. 'C'mon, Tigger. Let's walk.'

They strolled a few feet from the two men. "We might not have a chance to talk privately later. Thank you."

"What the Hell for?"

"Telling Clay I thought he didn't want me any more." Her eyes met his unflinchingly. "And for not telling him about what happened between us the other day."

Tig raised a hand to his nose, his face felt hot from embarrassment and shame. "Dammit, Gemma! I'm tryin' to forget that! Why are you bringing that up _now_?"

"I'm not rubbing your nose in it, honey. You helped me, made me feel wanted again. That's something I didn't think was possible after the rape. I thought no man would _ever_ want me again. Clay and I have overcome our issues. We're back together - in every way."

"Why thank me for that?"

She smiled at him. "Clay told me it was the second time you spoke to him on my behalf; that I needed to know he still loved me."

Tig was silent for a moment, then replied softly, "If you really wanna thank me, forget about what happened. I don't wanna think about it again."

"It's history, Tigger," she assured him as they walked back to the waiting area. "I know where your heart lies. It's not with me. My heart lies with Clay. That's the way it should be."

Tig resumed pacing and glaring at the door until Dr. Gallagher walked out to the lounge again, a slight but relieved smile on his face. "Good news, Mr. Trager. No internal injuries, no fluid on the brain. Time will tell if her vision has been compromised. We're moving her to a room in critical care now."

Trager didn't wait to acknowledge the doctor's words. He turned and stalked as fast as he could to the critical care floor, leaving Gemma and the men behind.

"Thanks, doc," Gemma stated apologetically.

"You get used to all kinds of reactions around here," the doctor assured her. "He's been waiting a long time for good news. I'm glad to give it to him."

Gemma signaled to the three men as she turned to follow Trager. Dr. Gallagher went on to his next patient.

* * *

Weston was roughly removed from the patrol car and led to an interview room. His hands were still cuffed, but moved from his back to in front of him, so he could sit a little more comfortably. Hale thought it was more than the man deserved if he had anything to do with the accident.

Clay and Unser were standing in the next room behind the one way mirror, watching Weston's interview. "He looks too smug and sure of himself. He knows something," Unser observed.

"He planned it. I know it. Proving he did it is another thing. Any sign of the truck?"

"Not the one Tig described. There's only one other place in town that rents trucks of that size. We're getting a warrant for that site. I've got a couple of unis checking mine, though we don't rent GMC's. They might've rented from out of town. We can check rental truck places in the surrounding area, but that will take time. Any word on Cat?"

"The doctor was running more tests. She's badly banged up and they were removing a sliver of glass from one eye. We don't know if she'll see out of it for awhile."

Unser shook his head in dismay. He Cat Marshall. She'd always been respectful of him and his officers, providing them with extra snacks from time to time. When she'd learned of Unser's cancer diagnosis, she'd shared her father's decades long battle with the disease and how her family dealt with it.

'I know now my cancer doesn't just affect me. Wish I'd figured that out before Dana took off. I hope I'll have a chance to make up for my surliness.'

Hale sat down across from Weston, a cup of coffee in front of him. "What can you tell me about the accident?"

"Which one?" Weston asked, his intense eyes locked with the deputy chief's.

"You know which one! The only one that happened tonight. The one you deliberately drove by and laughed about!"

Weston pretended innocence. "I _knew_ Trager misunderstood! I was laughing at something on the radio. I just happened to be passing by when I saw the aftermath of the wreck. I recognized Miss Marshall's car and felt sad for them both. But by that time, he had opened fire, so I left!"

"That's your story, and you're sticking to it," Hale replied.

"I had nothing to do with the accident, if that's what you're asking. Why would I want to hurt Ms. Marshall?"

"Let's start with she's against your cause! She's spoken out openly against it, and used your boss's own words against him tonight! You knew the rally was going on, and had her ambushed!" Hale growled.

"That's all speculation on your part, Hale. Prove it!"

"We will. Your life's a mess, Weston. We already have your kids in protective custody."

"I'll get them back! Your reasons for taking them are bullshit!" Weston paused a moment and gathered his composure. "I'm sorry that Miss Marshall was injured, and from the way Trager was acting, she must've been killed. However, you have nothing that connects me to it."

Hale stood up and walked out of the interview room, leaving Weston to his own devices for a bit.

"He knows something, the son of a bitch. He's too damn smug," Hale said to his boss as they met in the hallway.

"I agree. But a cop's gut instinct doesn't serve as evidence."

"Any news about Ms. Marshall?"

"She alive. Critical, but alive," Unser assured him.

"Trager must be relieved."

"So what are we going to do about Weston? We'll have to release him if we have nothing to charge him with."

"Attempted assault with a deadly weapon on Jax would be one. Child endangerment another, since he left his kids alone with access to guns," Hale replied, referring to a few days earlier when Weston's oldest son had opened fire on the Sons and Hale.

"And it wouldn't stick because he'd claim reckless endangerment by you and the club, along with trespassing by Jax," Unser pointed out.

"Weston seemed to think the impact killed Ms. Marshall. Let's see how he reacts to finding out she survived."

"It's worth trying," Unser returned to the room where he'd left Clay and advised him of the new tactic Hale was going to try. They watched as Hale returned to the interview room.

"We just learned that Ms. Marshall survived the impact. She's pretty banged up, but the medics reported she was alive when they extricated her from the vehicle."

Hale carefully watched Weston's body language as they talked. The man's face blanched and his tense countenance became even more intense. 'I should've known better! She has some kind of luck on her side!' He worked desperately to pull his emotions together before replying. "That's good news for Trager!"

"Yes, it is," Hale replied quietly. He wasn't fooled. He witnessed the internal fight Weston had waged with himself. Hale decided to bluff.

"We also have a very detailed description of the truck from another eyewitness. The witness indicated the truck appeared to have been repainted. It's only a matter of time before we find it."

Weston knew Hale was bluffing. "I really wish you luck in finding the truck and whoever did this cowardly thing. I wish I could be of more help."

"Uh-huh," Hale muttered. He hadn't missed any of Weston's ever changing body language. 'Weston expected her to be killed, all right. This was no accident. Without a confession, I'm no further along than when we first started.'

Weston was a tough nut, and wasn't going to crack easily. Despite the fact that the county had his kids, Weston wasn't inclined to make the accident investigation any easier.

"He did it! I know it, you know it, and Hale knows it! The bastard is too slick!" Clay roared.

Hale glanced at Clay, sharing the man's outrage.

"What are you going to do?"

"We're going on lock down tomorrow. I've put in a call to the charters and nomads. That's the only way I can keep people safe. You're included. You've helped us too many times; Zobelle will have his sights on anyone who is on our side."

"I know you'll do everything you can to keep a bloodbath from happening in Charming," Hale replied quietly. "What about Cat? Is Trager going to stay at the hospital to protect her?"

"He'll be with her until she comes to. He's not gonna know about the lock down until then." Clay replied. "Once she's awake, she'll be guarded by charters or nomads whenever he's not at the hospital."

Unser was relieved that Clay used the word 'when' as opposed to 'if'. "I'd assign officers there if I had 'em to spare. But why wouldn't Tig stay with her once she's awake?"

"Because Tig will want in on the action. That's how he is. Cat will understand. She always has. Like you, she's a friend to the club."

Clay strode from the room. He knew there was nothing more to be gained from Weston. He had things to do before the lock down.

* * *

Alex stood just inside the entrance to Cat's hospital room, the closed door solid against his back. His heart cried with pain for her. 'I'm so used to being cut and bruised, I don't even feel anything when I get into fights! Seeing her like this kills me.'

An IV full of a combine saline/antibiotic solution dripped through a clear plastic tube into Cat's right arm. An oxygen tube rested under her nose and a foam collar was around her neck. 'Guess that's more comfortable than that plastic thing, but can't see there being anything comfortable about this!'

He walked to the closet and tossed the plastic bag of her belongings in it, then stood in front of the closet, taking inventory of her injuries.

A cast encased her left arm from wrist to elbow. He knew that under the thin blanket her ribs were supported by a binder. The right side of her face was hidden behind gauze pads and surgical tape, her hair peeked over a wrap of gauze around her head. Her left eye was closed. The skin around it and her nose was red, black, purple, and blue.

'If she saw that get-up on her head, she'd think someone had made a _Phantom of the Opera_ mask for her,' he thought. 'I'd give anything for her not to be here.'

His gaze took in a plastic collection bag attached to the bottom of the bed. It contained yellow liquid tinged with red. 'I don't like the looks of that.' He made a mental note to ask a doctor or nurse about it the next time such a medical professional was present.

He walked to the far side of the bed opposite the door. He intended to stay with her and that meant being able to watch the door and all visitors. He pulled a chair next to the bed and lowered the rail so that it would be easier for him to reach her.

The only sounds in the room came from the monitors. 'I need something to cover that noise.' He reached across her, grasped the bed control and turned on the TV. He surfed the channels until he found the cable classified channel that broadcast a radio station she liked and he could tolerate.

The station was one of the few that didn't play a lot of ads or subscribe to a syndicated service. There was some DJ chatter, but it was locally oriented. Cat liked it because the station reminded her of the one she'd worked for in Terre Haute.

Alex liked it because the format didn't contain a lot of hard-core rap or sappy love songs. 'At least it'll cover that fucking annoying beeping.'

He took Cat's left hand in his. 'Oh fuck, baby!' he sighed as he bent his head to her palm, kissed it, and then placed it against his cheek. The radio station was playing Kiss' '_Forever'. _Her hand was ice-cold and shook in his. He rested his other hand on her stomach, felt her body quivering from cold under the thin blanket.

"Shit! She's freezing! I'd lay down next to her to warm her, but she needs somethin' lighter than me. I don't wanna do more damage.' He checked through drawers and the closet, and finally found another blanket on the top shelf of the closet.

He expertly flipped the blanket open and drew it over her, being careful not to snag the IV lines in her right arm. He resumed his seat next to the bed and reached under the blanket to take her left hand and place it back against his cheek. 'She's stopped shivering. Must've just been cold.' He felt absurdly pleased to have been able to do something for her besides worry.

The needs of the club and the desire to get back at Zobelle and Weston finally took a back seat to his need to be with her. "I'm here for ya, babe. I'm not going anywhere. Please wake up."

Rev. Bush, Gemma, and Half-Sack walked quietly into the room. Juice elected to keep watch from the waiting lounge down the hall.

Though they'd all heard the various injuries listed in the doctor's matter-of-fact manner, it hadn't prepared them for the actual sight. Gemma let out a small gasp as Rev. Bush placed a hand under her arm to support her, though he felt a little unsteady himself.

"Holy -!" Prospect whispered.

"Yeah, she's in a mess," Tig replied, his voice thick with unshed tears. "She always teases me about buying stock in bandages whenever I've been in fights. I've never looked as bad as this after any of 'em. Why the Hell did this have to happen to her?"

"She'll be teasing you again in no time, Tig," Bush said consolingly. "She's survived the crash, and that's the biggest hurdle. It could be that this was meant as a wake up call to the entire town."

"I thought that was the reason she hosted that fucking rally!" Tig ground the words through clenched teeth. 'I know he's an old friend of Cat's, but if he says one word about this being some kind of plan, I'll throw him out on his ass!'

Bush sensed he was aggravating the outlaw, a sense that was confirmed by Gemma's warning glance. "That's what she did. If it's proven that LOAN deliberately hurt her, the town will be more united against them. That would benefit her – and SAMCRO."

Sack knew Tig was stressed and that the minister meant well. "Anything I can do, Tig?" Prospect inquired hurriedly, hoping to change the subject.

"Yeah. I can't use the cell in here. Get the room phone number to Clay. Tell him to call the room if he needs me,"

Sack wrote down the phone number and hurried from the room. 'I hope the Reverend doesn't push him too far. Glad Gemma's there to act as a buffer.'

"I'll leave you to take care of her, Tig," Bush sensed that his presence wasn't providing any comfort. "I'm on the chaplain roster here, and will make a note that I'm visiting her. That will spare you any unwelcome pastoral visits."

Tig nodded in gratitude. "Thanks, man," he murmured, not lifting his head from Cat's hand. "I appreciate everything you said. Cat would want you to visit her, so don't stay away."

Bush walked from the room, closing the door behind him. 'Interesting man. He seems touch, even unapproachable at times. But he has a heart; it's breaking right now. He loves her. They may have an unorthodox relationship, but he seems to make her happy.'

"Tig, I'm gonna leave now, give you two some time alone," Gemma added, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We're just a phone call away if you need us."

Once the door closed behind Gemma, Alex allowed the tears he'd been holding in check their release. 'I feel like I've been punched in the gut with a two ton wrecking ball.' Despite the doctor's prognosis, he was more afraid of losing her now than when he'd confessed to killing Donna. 'I was damn lucky the other night. My luck can't hold out forever!'

The top of the hour brought the station ID, followed by the DJ's prattle. Tig started to turn down the volume; the announcer's comments stopped him. "Unless you've had your head buried in the sand, you know that Cat Marshall, owner of _Charming Pawse_, hosted a peace rally tonight to raise awareness about the League of American Nationalists. Ms. Marshall was severely wounded in a two car accident tonight, the other vehicle left the scene. All the music during my shift is taken from the coffeehouse website, and dedicated to her. I would encourage the entire area to come out to her coffeehouse tomorrow and the remainder of the week in support of Ms. Marshall. Let her know the county is behind her. I hope you recover soon."

The announcer was speaking over the intro to an Alabama song. Tig recognized it as the one she'd spoken of considering playing at Bill's graveside, '_There's No Way' . _He understood clearly why she felt that song appropriate for that time.

He kept thinking about the wreck, wondering what he should've done differently. 'Could I have been more observant? Maybe I should've been ahead of her instead of following her? Should I have stopped her from holding the fucking thing in the first place?'

That last question made him grin through his tears. 'Nah. She would've defied me and held it anyway.' As far as he could tell, Cat had done everything right. 'She even left the seat belt on, even though she doesn't like it against her scar.'

It had only taken a matter of seconds for everything to go wrong. He reviewed the seconds before the impact in his head, trying to recall anything that he hadn't told Hale and Unser.

Something keep nagging at him, but he couldn't pin it down. He concentrated while the radio station played '_Just a Matter of Time_'. 'The speed the truck was moving! There might be skid marks from the tires, either at the point of impact, or where the truck sat to gather speed!'

Loathe as he was to leave her side, he dug his cellphone from his pocket and walked to the door. He had to call Unser before any tracks might be destroyed. "I'll be back, babe," he promised, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Prospect darted out the door to Cat's room and down the hall to a small lounge. He took his cell out of a pocket and dialed Clay's number. Juice listened intently as he spoke with the club president.

"How is she?" Clay asked worriedly.

"No internal injuries but she's still out. The doctor said they got the glass out of her eye. She's in a room and Tig's with her. He's pretty upset."

"I can imagine. Weston didn't say anything of use. Unser's gonna hold him a few more hours."

"Want me to stick around?"

"Good idea," Clay replied. "I'm sure some of the guys will check in. We're going on lock down tomorrow; I've already called the charters. Do _not_ say anything to Tig about this until Cat comes to."

"Understood." Prospect gave Clay the room phone number and hung up. The door to Cat's room opened and the minister walked out. 'He looks OK, guess Gemma kept Tig from flying out of control.' He started back to the room as Gemma walked out and walked towards the lounge.

"He needs to be alone with her," she explained to the two young bikers. "Clay told you both about the lock down?"

"I just found out. He said not to say anything to Tig about it until she comes to," Prospect replied. Juice nodded agreement.

"Be sure to re-reinforce that with any of the guys that come by," she advised. "C'mon, Juice. I need to get home, get prepared for tomorrow."

Prospect remained in the lounge after Juice and Gemma left, leafing through the accumulation of months-old magazines. He saw Tig step out of the room and hoped it was good news until he saw the tear stains on Tig's face. He waved at Tig to indicate he was there, which Tig acknowledged with a curt nod before closing the cell and returning to the room.

Tig moved a few feet from the door and dialed Charming PD, asking to speak with either Unser or Hale. While he waited on hold, he used his shirt sleeve to wipe his eyes. After what seemed like a long wait, Unser came on the line.

"Chief Unser here. What's up, Tig?"

"Has anyone looked for tire tracks at the scene, or anywhere along the street?"

"We've got the CSI team over from Lodi. The same thought occurred to Hale. They're checking the scene now."

"Did Weston say anything useful?" Stupid question, he already knew the answer.

"Unfortunately not. He claims he was listening to something funny on the radio and you mistook that as laughing at the wreck. He's not pressing charges on you for shooting at him."

"What a sweetheart!" Tig snarled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"How's Cat?"

"No internal injuries. She's still unconscious. I gotta get back." He closed the phone and stood thinking a moment. He realized someone had to call her father, and that someone was him. 'Indiana is three hours ahead. This call is gonna come at a bad time, but I can't put it off, there might not be time later,' he scrolled through the stored numbers until he found the one labeled 'CF'. He allowed the phone to rang several times until he was finally rewarded with a groggy "Yello!"

"Rev. Marshall, it's Alex."

"What's happened, son?" Her father was suddenly wide awake. He squinted at the digital clock to see that it was 3AM. His alarm had not yet gone off for his second of three necessary wake ups. "Is Cat all right?"

'That family's pretty damn perceptive,' he closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. "The PT was broadsided tonight and she was hurt pretty bad. She survived, but she's in critical condition."

"Thank God!" the minister breathed.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but didn't feel this could wait."

"It's good that you called, son. My alarm was about to go off anyway. Are you with her now?"

"Just outside the door to use the phone. She's asleep." OK, a small white lie, his daughter was still unconscious. 'No need to worry the man when he's ill himself.'

"Then I won't keep you. What's the name of the hospital so I can check in on occasion?"

Alex provided the name of the hospital and Cat's room telephone number. "There's a minister she knows who's been here. Chris Bush, apparently he's from Indiana."

"I vaguely remember the name. Thanks for callin', Alex. Give Cat a hug for me when she wakes up."

"I'll be glad to. G'nite."

"G'nite Son. Love you both."

Alex glanced down the hall, saw Prospect sitting in the waiting area and acknowledged his wave with a curt nod before returning to Cat's room. He hoped she had awakened, but nothing had changed.

"Shit, Baby. Why won't you wake up?" He returned to the chair next to the bed, took Cat's hand in his, and lay her palm against his cheek, holding it there with his hand. The station was playing T. G. Shepherd's '_I __Loved 'Em Everyone'. _

_

* * *

_

Chibs winced at the sight of the mangled metal that was once the '_MF6_'. Clay was right, there was no way to salvage it.

He'd driven the garage van to impound. The karaoke equipment itself wouldn't have fit on his bike, much less all her personal items.

The first thing he looked for and secured was Cat's gun. He found it in the locked glove compartment. It took a little work to get to it due to the damage on that side. Unser had given him the keys, so he didn't have to pick the lock. He quickly stuffed the gun under his shirt.

Chibs removed other personal items from the glove compartment; a pair of wrap around sunglasses, a picture of Cat and Bill when the car was first purchased.

'Ach! So that's whut 'er hoosband looked like! Kinda short.' He put it with a picture of Cat and Tig with the PT. He also removed the registration slips from Indiana and California.

With the glove compartment clear, Chibs started methodically going through the vehicle, locating and packing her personal possessions.

Her eyeglasses were laying on the floor of the passenger's side. He was surprised they were still intact. 'Considerin' tha injoories on 'er face, I expected ta find 'em in pieces!' He stuck them in his cut pocket, then picked up the cat necklaces and key chains that had once hung from the rear view mirror. He tried, but was not successful in removing her '_dark music_' tape from the stereo.

Chibs found her corduroy fedora behind the passenger seat, a little crumpled but none the worse for wear. He slid the gun from under his shirt and placed it in the fedora, which he placed in a box with the other items he'd removed from the car.

The label of one tape caught Chibs' eye as he gathered tapes and CDs together. '_Thinking of Tig_' was written in her expansive, sloping hand. 'Hmm. Wonder whut kind o' moosic maykes her thin' o' 'im?'. He took it to the van and inserted it in the tape player, so he could listen while he worked. He wasn't surprised to hear George Thorogood's _'Bad to the Bone' _blare from the speakers.

'Aye, that's 'im, a'right!'

Chibs smiled at the assortment of things he pulled from the center armrest. There were pens, a tire gage, mouthwash strips, a comb, a small bottle of hand sanitizer, and a cellophane wrapped cigarillo. A black wooden baseball bat rested behind the driver's seat.

The hatchback contained a blanket and air mattress, a book entitled '_Auto Repair for Dummies_', a miniature air compressor and the box of karaoke equipment.

He gave one last check of the car to make sure he'd not forgotten anything. Right in plain view were pictures of her three favorite actors taped to the dash. 'Ach! Tha bhoyfrien's Tig's always teasin' 'er aboot! Can't fergit 'em!'

The PT's passenger side had a grab bar above the glove compartment door, and she had stuffed a few plush bears and cats in it. He was surprised that everything he recovered was still in good shape, considering the damage to the car. Even the garage door remote control on the passenger sun visor was still intact.

"The gurl treated this car like a second hoome," he mused, holding the plush animals in his hands. They were sun faded, but he knew they were important to her. He made one further check of the vehicle interior. Satisfied that he'd gotten everything, he loaded the van and climbed into the driver's side.

* * *

The Lodi CSI team checked over the scene of the accident after they'd examined the PT at impound for clues. There was no evidence found on the wreckage, nor at the scene of the crash.

The team then searched the area near the crash site for clues, locating a set of tire marks consistent with the type of truck Tig had described. Those tracks proved the box truck had sat and gathered enough speed to cause the wreck, making the event a case of attempted vehicular homicide.

The team made casts of the tire prints, which could then be compared to area trucks matching the size and description. Unless the truck was obtained from outside Charming, there was a chance of a match. Other than the tire prints, the team had found little else to guide them in their investigation. They'd often worked with less.

* * *

Chibs slid into the van's driver seat and turned down the volume on the stereo a bit. It didn't surprise him that Cat had recorded typically 'Tig-centric' tunes like The Who's '_Behind Blue Eyes_' and Jim Steinman's '_Bad for Good _'. A country tune entitled '_The Highwaymen_' caught him off guard until he listened to the lyrics. That and Warren Zevon's '_Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner_' seemed to be more reflective of the MC as a whole.

He grinned to hear '_Cool Rider'. _He was familiar with the film it came from. 'So many jokes ta coome frum this! I'll wait until mi' lady kin enjoy the bhoy's misery!' He turned into the garage lot and pulled the van to a stop in front of Tig's bay.

Dog was unloading Tig's Dyna from the flatbed. He'd unlocked the garage office in order to leave the key there.

Chibs left the van's front windows down so he could hear the tape while he worked. He walked through the office to the service area and on into Tig's bay. He opened the garage door and began unloading the boxes from the van.

"Ach! There's the softer side she sees in 'im! I knew if enny one could find it, she would!' That softer side was reflected in Cat's selection of George Michael's '_Father Figure_' and Mellencamp's '_My Sweet Love'_. Those were followed by Meat Loaf's '_No Matter What_' and Bon Jovi's '_Bed of Roses_'.

'The gurrl knows how ta paint a moosical portrait; as varied as tha man 'imself.' Chibs stored the boxes under Tig's workbench. 'Her goon n' other thins will be safe until she's ready for 'em or Tig taykes 'em 'ome.'

He stood thinking over the night's events. His heart ached for his friend. Cat had become the sister he'd never had and he loved her as much as he loved Gemma. He opened the box of her possessions, removed a very sun faded plush black cat and stuffed it inside his cut. The fur tickled his bare skin, but it also gave him comfort.

He parked the van and pushed the 'eject' button on the cassette player, slipping the tape into his cut pocket. He locked the van, returned the key to the office and walked to his bike.

"Any word?" Dog inquired as Chibs passed him.

Dog was leaning against the wall of the garage, smoking a cigarette.

"She's alive. Last I 'eard, she's still unconscious," he replied. "I'm goin' oot there."

"This is bad." Dog stamped out his cigarette with unusual viciousness.

"Aye, laddie."

"Hale called. I get to haul Weston's Bronco from Main Street to the police station."

"Glad they caught tha basturd! Not that 'e won't slip oot of tha noose!" Chibs spat on the ground in disgust.

"Maybe I'll be nice and fix the taillight Tig shot out," Dog sneered. "I have some red tape in my bay, should patch it. It's more than the asshole deserves, but it'll save Tig from having to make good on the repair."

"Don't count on it, laddie," Chibs replied dryly, mounting his Harley and firing the engine. He felt helpless to do anything to help his heart-sister. 'Hell, I couldn't even protect the club from the fookin' ATF and DA nor me own wife n' child without it nearly bitin' me in the ahss! What 'elp am I to anyone?'

Carrieanne was still in Ireland, far away from Chibs' ability to protect her. Fi might be in the States now, but she was still a prisoner of Jimmy O, despite her recent overtures to him. His attempt to help the club had blown up in his face from Stahl's treachery.

'Jaysus! Is this shit ever gonna end?' He pulled his bike into a space in the hospital parking lot and lay his head on the handlebars, gathering the inner strength to go inside. 'The pity party kin wait. Cat n' Tig need me. I've gotta be strong fer 'em.' He patted the bulge in his cut where the stuffed black cat lay against him and walked inside.

* * *

'Good thing I don't hear Tom Petty singing '_Free Falling! _I'm doin' that well enough without a soundtrack! Where the Hell am I anyway?' Cat was becoming aware again, first and foremost of the pain. 'Damn! Every time I wake up, it hurts!'

She felt cold, but not unbearably so. It was hard for her to breathe and she wanted to try to move to escape whatever was preventing her from breathing easily. She was vaguely aware of music, and of Alex's voice.

She tried to make contact with him, to assure him she wasn't going anywhere, that she was going to be all right. 'It's gonna hurt to move or speak; he can't keep goin' on like this. Not so soon after the 'shroom trip!'

She fought against the darkness that was calling her back to its' pain-free embrace. Just as she had gathered all her strength to speak, she felt the familiar rush of fluid in the vein of her arm again, and the darkness took possession of her once again.

Tig glared at the nurse who'd just injected pain medication into the IV. "How the Hell do you know she needs that?" he snarled. 'It looked like Cat was trying to come out of it, then this bitch had to interfere! I'm tempted to smack her into next week!'

"The spike in her vitals indicated a high level of pain, sir," the nurse replied crisply. "Sleep, even drug induced, will help her more right now than being awake." She gazed sternly at the rider, her eyes showing no fear of him. When she saw the unshielded pain in his blue eyes, her tough stance softened. "I know this is difficult for you. All you can see are her injuries and that she's unconscious. Believe me, she _is_ going to get better." The nurse lay a comforting hand on Tig's shoulder then turned and left the room.

Chibs and Juice joined Prospect in the waiting area, looking up hopefully when the door opened and the nurse walked out of Cat's room. She didn't even look their way as she moved on to the next room.

"There some kind of rule she can't tell us what's going on?" Juice asked angrily, his eyes full of hurt at the obvious snub.

"Relax, bhoyo. Tha nurse didn't look worried, so Cat must be doin' OK," Chibs replied.

"Guess you're right, bro. You aware that we're going on lock down tomorrow?" Prospect inquired.

"Furst I 'eard of it. Not surprised."

"We can't tell Tig. Least until Cat wakes up."

"I'll tell 'im when tha time coomes," Chibs added just as Cat's employee, Pete, walked up to them.

Chibs had taken it upon himself to call Pete and Anna, to advise them of the accident before they heard of it on the radio or TV. Pete had come out to wait with the Sons; Anna had agreed to open. The two would take turns waiting at the hospital for their employer and friend to come to.

The four men spoke of the League's possible involvement in Cat's injuries. "They've gotta be behind this," Juice stated. "There's no way this was a random accident."

Pete nodded agreement. "Zobelle's store was the only one that wouldn't post a flyer about the rally. None of us were surprised. His right hand, that really intense looking guy, ran us off when Adrian and I came in with the flyers."

"That's Weston," Prospect supplied, casting a side glance at Chibs, he added, "D'ya think Weston could've planned this all by himself?"

"I dunno, bhoys," Chibs replied. "Weston seems moor tha type that taykes orders. It's possible, but I wouldn't count Zobelle oot o' tha picture."

The men alternated pacing with sitting in the visiting area. Sometimes they talked about the rally, often times they let their thoughts roam.

Juice had brought his laptop and pulled up the coffeehouse's website and Facebook page. There were several messages in the inbox for both sites. He could access both applications as he'd set up the website and knew the passwords. He read through the messages then called softly, "Guys, you might want to see this."

The men crowded around him to read the messages. Most were positive and expressed shock, concern, and support for Cat as well as inquiring if it was retaliation on the part of LOAN. Only one or two postings on the webpage were negative and in support of LOAN.

"Ye better post somethin' on both o' those sites, Juice," Chibs advised. "Tha news is oot, and that might keep tha 'ospital from bein' swamped wi' requests fer intel."

"Tig won't like it," Prospect warned.

"Tig will hafta accept it, if he wants 'er to hev enny peace," Chibs replied. "Do it. I'll deal wi' Tig."

Pete dictated a thank-you and update that Juice typed onto the two sites: _"The staff of __Charming __Pawse__ expresses their thanks for your kind __thoughts and prayers for our employer, Cat __Marshall. At this time, there is nothing to __indicate that her injuries are the result of anything more than an accident. She is in critical, but stable condition. Please continue to __check back, we will update this site when we have __more to share_."

Juice noted with a touch of sadness that the number of hits on the podcast had steadily increased since news of the accident had gotten out.

* * *

Alex was exhausted. The last couple of days had taken a lot out of him; the ambush had pushed him to the limit. He knew from the monitors that Cat's heart was beating and her lungs working; he found a small measure of comfort in that knowledge.

The same nurse that had administered the pain medication brought in a tray of food for him. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted Cat to wake up. He'd waved it off with a grimace.

"You need to eat, sir," the nurse chided him. "You can't help her if you don't take care of yourself."

"Leave it. I might eat later," he replied off-handedly. "That reddish tinge in the collection bag, is that anything to worry about?"

"There's a minute trace of blood in her urine that we're monitoring. We've already ruled out internal injuries, so try not to worry about it, that's our job."

"A'right," he replied wearily, realizing the nurse was trying to assure him. He clung to those assurances like a drowning man to a life preserver.

When the nurse left, he took Cat's left hand in both of his again. The radio station was playing a Bon Jovi tune. It was one Cat had sung during a karaoke night called '_I'll be There for You_'. It was one of those 'don't break up with me/give me a second chance ballads', but Tig appreciated the lyrics more than the night she'd sung it. 'I can see why she associates music to various events and feelings.'

He rested his head against her hip and draped his free arm across her legs. "Can you hear the words, baby? That's how I feel, even if I don't tell you all the time." He placed the palm of her hand against his cheek and held it there with his own hand, listening to the singer put his own thoughts into words:

"_I'll be there for you_

_These five words_

_I'll swear to you _

_When you breathe _

_I wanna be the air for you_

_I'll be there for you._

_I'd live and I'd die for you_

_Steal the sun from the sky for you_

_Words can't say what love can do_

_I'll be there for you."_

He sighed and closed his eyes. Exhaustion overtook him and he drifted into an uneasy, nightmare-ridden sleep.

_Sleep was supposed to rest the body and mind, but Tig's sleep brought no rest. His mind traveled back over the years to the first woman he thought he'd loved. He'd told Opie a bit about her just a few weeks earlier in an attempt to connect with the husband of the woman he'd killed by accident. _

_That long ago day had started as normal as any other. He and the girl had been traveling down I-5 towards Charming. Tig had an offer from Clay to patch in with the mother charter. He was happy with the girl and thinking of marrying her. He didn't know at the time she was pregnant. _

_Without warning, the Dyna FXR lost control on a patch of oil laying in the middle of the lane. Tig tried to keep control of the bike but dumped it. Both of them were thrown from the bike; he rolled to the berm while she was thrown into on-coming traffic and killed when a vehicle ran over her. His leg was broken, preventing him from being able to help her. _

_The authorities ruled the event a tragic accident. If anyone was to blame, it was the owner of the deteriorating vehicle that had leaked oil on the pavement while stopped in traffic earlier. _

_The girlfriend's family didn't share that sentiment and blamed him for the accident. He blamed himself, and was sick with self-loathing when he learned from the coroner's report that she was carrying his child. _

_'You didn't want the responsibility of being a father, Tiggy! You killed her in cold blood. You laid that bike down on purpose and let her die to get out of it! I'll never forgive you!' Kozik's angry words, spoken on the day of the funeral, had echoed his own feelings. _

_'I was in mourning just as much as he was, but there was no one willing to comfort me. Her family and Kozik turned on me. I didn't blame her family; still don't.' _

_Once his leg healed, he decided against patching in with SAMCRO. He re-enlisted in the Marines, received training in covert operations and participated in numerous dangerous assignments. The assignments put his life at risk but he came out of each one completely unscathed. _

_He'd considered making the Marines his life, until the President decided to cut back on military installations. His unit was deactivated. Instead of a transfer to another unit, he was given an honorable discharge and returned to the states. _

_He drifted along the West Coast, getting into that trouble in Oregon in 2001, and then Clay asked him again to patch in with SAMCRO, making him the Sergeant at Arms, giving him a use for his military training. He became the 'go-to' man when things needed a 'final solution'. _

_He cultivated a reputation in the club and the town for being a brutal, cold man. He reveled in it. It kept people from getting too close. 'Letting people get close meant opening up to intolerable pain if something bad happened. I let Clay and Gemma in because I couldn't tolerate being completely isolated.' Other than his brothers, theirs was the only other close human contact he allowed._

_His nights were a never ending procession of one night stands; a body to warm his bed, vent his growing deviant sexual desires and then be gone with the sunrise. He didn't want children or a steady girlfriend. He never wanted to feel the desolation of being left behind again. _

_'Fathering Fawn and Dawn was an accident. I believed the gash when she said she was barren. The one time I didn't use a raincoat and - bam! -instant parenthood proved by a paternity test.' He paid child support, but he wasn't a part of their lives. If he let them get close, he'd only know unbearable pain if something happened to them._

_His sinister and violent front to the world worked for him until a small woman with salt and pepper hair came to Charming – and thawed his heart. He'd felt his connection to his lady and their child start to slip away, and sometimes he still felt guilty about that. 'Is it so wrong to want to be happy?' _

"_No, Tig. It's not wrong," a female voice, a voice different than Cat's called his name. She was silhouetted in a bright light, so that he couldn't see her features. _

"_Shit! Not again! I made peace with Donna already, even if it was really Cat who heard it!" _

"_I'm not Donna. Have you forgotten me so soon after thinking of me?" _

_He squinted into the light. It was _her_, the girl he felt responsible for killing standing in front of him, holding his unborn child by the hand. _

"_No, I haven't forgotten you. I mourned you for years and found a reason to live again. Why are you here now?" _

"_I came to tell you that I'm OK that you love and married her. You weren't at fault for what happened to me, despite what Kozik said. He was wild with grief. He's never let me go. I felt you release me when she came into your life. That's good. You deserve happiness." _

"_Am I going to lose her?" _

_There was no answer. The girl and his child were gone as soundlessly and quickly as they had appeared. His subconscious compared the 'bed of nails' his life had been to the 'bed of roses' he had from his life with Cat. _

_The very first time he saw her was the night of the zoning board meeting. Clay had gotten intel that someone wanted to open a combination coffeehouse and book exchange. He wanted it checked out and told Tig to attend the meeting. _

"_C'mon, Clay! That's a prospect's job!" he'd protested hotly. _

"_This is not for Prospect," Clay replied, his voice hard as granite at having his order questioned. "Some woman wants to open a coffee and book store. If it's gonna be a local business, no problem. If she's fronting for a corporate chain, you know what needs to be done. Do it." _

_So Tig went to the meeting, expecting to be bored. Then he saw her, dressed all in black with dark glasses, a black fedora and a corduroy duster. She'd charmed the board and the audience with her wit and determination. 'I was interested in her as soon as I saw her.' _

_He started doing things he thought he'd never do where a woman was concerned. He often 'just happened' to ride by her house or the store in hopes of catching a glimpse of her. More often then not, he'd sit on his bike across the street from the coffeehouse watching the renovations; watching her. _

_'I never thought she'd storm out the front door with her baseball bat to confront me! She thought I was some kind of stalker. I didn't leave out of a fear of getting a whupping, but to avoid a scene on Main Street and getting Clay pissed.' Her courage and audacity had impressed him; anyone else would've just called CPD to chase him off. _

_He remembered the easy-going, genuine friendliness she'd demonstrated the first time he'd entered the coffeehouse as a customer and how she'd chastised him for cursing. He'd actually _liked _being told to watch his language! _

_He spent his weekends following her from a distance, making sure none of the Mayans or Nords messed with her. 'I kept tellin' myself it was my job to look out for a resident's safety, but I knew it was bullshit. I worried about her ridin' alone, that was unheard of around here.' _

_He recalled the afternoon he rescued her from the side of the road when her bike broke down and how good she felt against his back on the ride back to Charming. It seemed only natural to treat her sunburn when a migraine caused her to pass out. 'I wanted her that day. Hell, I could've had her while she was unconscious, but for some reason, that didn't appeal to me. I wanted her to be awake and enjoy it with me.' _

_Instead of acting on his urge, he made the needed repairs to her bike and then had a 'chat' with the asshole who'd sold her a bike with old tires that were painted to look new._

_He thought of the long week of self-imposed separation following that rescue. 'I stayed away from her because the attraction was getting too strong. I thought it was a bad idea, but it was too late, I was already hooked!' The Sunday after the rescue, he'd planted his first kiss on her. It was an angry, possessive kiss that telegraphed everything he felt. Then he left her sitting on her porch as he raced away. That long ride helped him decide to take a stab at a relationship with her. That night he stripped himself of all his SAMCRO adornments, including his weapons, to explore the idea. _

_'She didn't make any demands, never had any unrealistic expectations. She accepted my lifestyle and made adjustments to hers to accommodate me. I gave her the two-way for her protection, so she could reach me if she needed to. I've never regretted giving it to her. Still seems like I use it more than she does.' _

_The early weeks of their relationship crossed its' first hurdle when her mother died, and she tearfully admitted her own dark secret. 'She thought I'd turn tail and run to learn her mother was a paranoid schizo and she had battled depression for years! It was the first time I'd seen her vulnerable side. Sure surprised her when I called to listen to the graveside service!' _

_Eventually he wanted more than a casual relationship. She had become important to him and he decided that he wanted her permanently in his life. 'I wanted what Clay has with Gemma, somebody who wanted to be with _me_, not some image.' If he'd had any doubts about marrying her, the verse she'd read as part of their vows eliminated them. _

_She had accepted the role the club had in his life and had showed her support many times. He'd kept her on a 'need to know' basis about club business out of habit, and to protect her. 'I can't count the number of times she's had my back and helped the MC as well and never asked for a fucking thing in return!' _

_The pleasant memories of all she'd done for him and the club should've helped him relax. Instead, his body tensed while a horrific cyclone of regret, compensating, enabling, regret, and envy filled his mind. _

"_Trager! Front and center!" A commanding voice, a little higher pitched than his, filled the room. It was a voice that demanded respect and instant obedience. "Time for you to face the music!" _

"_What the fuck?" Tig squinted in the direction of the voice to see a man shorter than him, with brown eyes and more salt than pepper to his hair, which was cut in a military style. The man stood with a slight slouch and stared at Tig as if he were a bug pinned to a card. "Who the Hell are you? You look familiar." _

"_You've seen my picture often enough. I'm Cat's husband." _

"_Her _former_ husband. You're dead, McLaughlin. _I'm_ her husband now!" _

_Bill snorted. "Really? I couldn't tell from the way you treat her. It really bugs her departed family and me to Death that you refer to her as your 'old lady' instead of your wife! It's as if you're ashamed of her. I can't see any reason for you to keep the marriage a secret. _I _was proud to call her 'wife'." _

"_If you knew _anything_ about us, you'd know that keeping our marriage on the QT was Cat's idea because it would protect her from the club's enemies!" Tig growled. "I'm _not _ashamed to be married to her!"_

"_Yeah, you were definitely quick to accept that idea, buster!" Bill countered. "It's hard for me to accept that I was taken from her so she could wind up with someone like you. Even though I got the Word straight from the Top, I still have difficulty with the idea! It's no surprise that you're so apprehensive about a future with her; considering how lousy you are at handling your personal affairs!" _

_Bill looked his adversary up and down, as if conducting a military style inspection and finding fault in Tig's presentation. "I find it offensive that you'd ask her to accept song lyrics as representative of your feelings! Telling her you're there for her! When have you _ever _been there for her?" _

"_You don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about!"_

"_Trager, I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times you've been there for her and have five left over! You definitely weren't there to protect her the day after LuAnn Delaney's funeral. She was followed to Rosen's office and then to CPD while you were safe and sound at the garage!" _

"_She _never_ mentioned being followed in her calls! I would've been right there if I'd known and wouldn't have let her out of my sight!" _

"_She didn't tell you because she didn't want to upset you. She shouldn't have _had _to tell you! You knew LOAN was going to retaliate against her for planning that rally! It was _your _job to be vigilant! Would it have been _that_ inconvenient to go to Stockton with her and then go to your club?"_

"_I went to work to and was repairing her bike!" Tig snarled. He was not used to having to explain himself to anyone, and he did _not _appreciate it. _

"_A repair necessitated by some other woman's obsession with you. An obsession, might I add, that was brought on by a drunken, thoughtless comment you made to the girl at a party! The bike repair could've waited. Your first priority should have been Cat's safety!" _

_Bill walked from one side of Tig to the other and back again as he spoke, his voice dripping with contempt. "Y'know, when I stop to think on it, your brand of vigilance wouldn't have made much difference. You would've left her to fend for herself the minute something related to your precious club would've come up! Considering you were present when this happened to her, your protection leaves a lot to be desired!" _

"_That's what you think!" _

"_That's what I know! Not only was she followed that day, but while you were selfishly tripping out of your mind, Weston showed up at the house, intending to finish what he started. My girl fended for herself - as usual - and chased the bad man away! You were in no condition to come to her aid!" _

_Tig felt like a cold ball of ice lay in the pit of his stomach. 'He's right, I shouldn't have had the 'shroom, not so close to the rally. Especially after what happened to Chibs!' _

_Bill glared contemptuously at his adversary, his brown eyes filled with outrage. His voice became harder and meaner as he spoke. "Instead of having her back and watching out for her safety, _she_ had to take care of you! After everything she did for you that night, how did you thank her? You try to screw your best friend's wife! In my opinion, you're _not_ the type of husband – not even the type of man - she needs and deserves!" _

_Bill's scathing comments angered Tig, yet they had a ring of truth that cut him to the quick. 'I _have _been too willing to give her what's left of my time and attention. I forgot about how Opie made time for Donna 'cause she put up so much resistance to the club while Cat didn't give me shit about it. I used the excuse that Gemma works with Clay to ignore what marriage really means.' Tig turned an icy stare at Bill's specter. "Cat chose me, McLaughlin, and I'm not goin' anywhere! There's still time!" _

"_God knows I tried to convince her the other night to leave your ass to rot in that field, but she wouldn't give up on you. Though nothing would give me more pleasure than to continue to rub your nose in _all_ your failures as a human being, I have something more important to do. She's _not _going to be there for you any longer; I've come to take her Home." _

_Surprise and despair darkened Tig's features at Bill's announcement. "Take her home ? Shit! That's the phrase her family uses when someone dies! You can't!" _

"_I can, and I will. She deserves peace, that's something she won't have with you. I love her enough to save her from you, 'cause she won't leave you. God knows I tried to convince her to leave your ass to rot in that field the other night, but she wouldn't give up on you. You should've appreciated her while you had her in your life! You've lost, Trager! I'm leaving you with just a taste of what should have happened – and may soon happen." _

_Tig wanted to leap from Cat's side and attack the specter intent on destroying his happiness. Before he could move, Bill's image disappeared, leaving Trager feeling empty and cold inside. _

_Tig relived the last few hours of the evening. He saw the wreck happen again and endured the seemingly long wait for help and her extrication from the damaged vehicle. He saw again the trip to the hospital, felt his utter fear that he might lose her. _

_His dream then took a radical turn from what really happened when Dr. Gallagher came to him in the lobby with the news that Cat was dead. He crumpled to the ER floor in agony while his brothers and Gemma gathered protectively around him. His body racked with sobs as he grieved the loss of what mattered the most to him. _

"_Nooooo!" The cry tore from his throat; he didn't realize that he was crying aloud. He stirred in his sleep, moaning in pain and anguish. _

The radio station was playing _'Apologize' _. It had been featured on an episode of 'Cold Case' that he'd watched with her on cable the other day. The episode guest starred one of the 'boyfriends' he always teased her for liking so much.

_'_It's too late to apologize for the past. I _refuse _to go back to the way things were before!' The specter of Bill's taunts echoed in his head. 'It's a dream. Cat's alive! She's not leavin' me! I gotta wake up!' He cried her name in his sleep as he desperately fought to wake from the nightmare.

* * *

_Cat felt as if she was slowly rising to the surface of a deep pool of water after swinging into it from a rope tied to a tree limb. She heard a voice call her name, only it wasn't Alex's voice. _

_She looked up, surprised that her eyes opened so easily when they'd refused to obey her earlier. She could see clearly, though she didn't have her glasses on. She didn't feel pain. She stretched her arms out to the clasp the hands of the beloved figure standing next to Alex's sleeping form. Bill helped her stand, holding both her hands in his. _

"_What are you doing here, Pookie? Gotta say it's nice to see you this time, instead of just hearin' your voice." _

"_I've come to take you away from all the hurt and pain that man has caused you. I've come to take you Home." _

"_But I _am_ home, Pookie. My home now is here, with Alex." _

_Bill smiled indulgently. "Cat, you _know_ what I mean. I'm talking Home, with me and the furbabies, your grandparents and your mother. My first dad and grandpa." _

_She looked at Bill, then turned to look at the hospital bed behind her. She watched Alex sitting at the side of her bed and listened to his moans of despair. "What on Earth? Is this some kind of nightmare?" _

"_No. It's not a nightmare. You're seeing your shell lying there. You're all broken, bloodied, and bruised; all because of that asshole you married. You're free of pain and whole again." _

_Cat gazed at the spectral form of her first husband. 'He's not very happy with Alex. He never used that word when he was alive.' She noted that Bill's expression was filled with anger and righteous indignation at Alex. "You're obviously not a fan of my guy."_

"_You've made better choices, honey. Even Cory Brown treated you better! At least you didn't get his leftover time and attention!" _

"_Yeah, for a price!" she replied. "Almost every damn cent of my inheritance and a big piece of my heart! Alex has never asked for a dime from me and has given all the time that he can!" She shook her head. "I know you're upset about what happened to me, Pookie, but it's not Alex's fault." _

"_What is this, some kind of mid-life crisis thing? Have you fallen for the allure of the bad boy again? I would've thought you had enough of that after you broke up with the alcoholic drug user!" Bill's eyes blazed with annoyance._

"_Whew! You're in quite a mood, Pookie! To answer your questions, buyin' the motorcycle was a nod at mid-life. Alex is – well, he's Alex." She gazed fondly over at Alex and added, "I knew from the start what type of person Alex is. I accepted him as he is. The same way you accepted me. This," she pointed to her bandaged body, "happened because I stood up against a hate group. You can't hold him accountable for what it." _

"_Honey, he's ignored you too many times! He doesn't even publicly recognize you as his wife! He can't possibility love you the way I do!" _

_She smiled sadly and shook her head. "Pookie, _I'm_ the one who said that we should be publicly known as livin' together. He wasn't happy with the idea; I had to convince him that it was the best way to protect me!"_

_Between Alex begging her not to leave him, and Bill entreating her to come with him, she felt as if she were being torn right down the middle. It was worse than when she'd heard their voices at the Wahewa reservation. 'I got to thinkin' over it the followin' mornin', wound up attributin' it to a product of my very active imagination. Now I'm not so sure. Why the Hell does one have to fight with the other, anyway?' _

"_You shouldn't _have_ to be protected! That's no way to live, honey!" _

_She took a deep breath. "You know, Pookie, our relationship had more than its' share of missed opportunities. There was a point where I needed protection from somethin' in your past as well. It's the same with Alex. He doesn't care about me the way you do, but he _does_ love me, Pookie. That's a lesson you taught me years ago. I can't – I _won't - _leave him just because he's different from you." _

"_Then you don't love me anymore." _

_She shook her head in denial. "Darlin', you know that's not true. I still love you, always will. Alex needs me just like I needed you. The gifts you gave me during our life together I can now give to Alex. I'm sorry, Pookie, but I'm just not ready to leave this life." _

_Bill smiled sadly at her. "You're stubborn, willful, obstinate, annoying, aggravating, and pigheaded, you know that?" _

"_All my best family traits, Pookie. That's one thing you two have in common; you both get really annoyed about that. I doubt y'all would want me to change." _

"_Wanna bet?" Bill asked wryly. He sighed in resignation. "You're letting yourself in for some incredible pain, Cat. Not just the physical kind of pain. I wanted to save you from that. But if this is what you want, I'm not going to deny you." _

"_This _is _what I want, Pookie. You'll know when it's time for me to come Home, and you'll be there just like you've always been there for me." _

_Bill lifted his hand to her face, she felt the warmth of his caress and saw the regret in his eyes. There was also pride and acceptance lighting them. "You've always been something special, honey. I'll see you when I see you," he whispered. She felt a feather light touch of his lips on hers, then felt a tug that pulled her back to herself as the pain washed over her again._

She heard a cry of loneliness and heartbreak from Alex. It made her fight harder to break away from that peaceful floating while Bill's features faded from her sight, replaced by blackness.

'He's havin' those bad dreams again,' she thought fuzzily. 'I thought confessin' about Donna would put a stop to 'em.' She tried to reach out and comfort Alex, let him know she was with him, but nothing worked. She tried to open her eyes but they wouldn't obey her.

The pain was just like it had been earlier. She tried to draw a deep breath, her sides were restricted and it still hurt to breathe. Something heavy weighed down her legs. 'Am I paralyzed?'

She willed herself to stay calm and relaxed. She felt something soft under her rear and her head, and something clamped to one finger.

'No, I can feel stuff, including that Gawd awful pain. Paralyzed limbs don't feel pain. I wouldn't feel that warm, damp skin and hair under my palm, or that warmth against the back of my hand! It's gonna hurt like Hell, but I gotta move, get him awake!

She drew another breath and opened her mouth to speak. Instead of her normal voice, she heard a soft, squeaky moan. 'That can't have come from me! I sound like a girl!' she winced at the sound her voice.

Her thoughts continued to center on getting Alex's attention, to wake him from the nightmare he was trapped in. 'That's either his cheek or chin under my hand. I'll try to move it. Maybe he'll feel it and wake up.' Her fingers moved along his face but it didn't seem to register with him.

'C'mon, love, wake up! I don't have the strength to wrestle with ya right now,' she kept moving her hand, but he continued to moan and cry. 'I'll have to reach across with my right hand.'

* * *

Alex's sleep was broken when he felt a feather light movement against his cheek. His eyes felt hot and gummy from tears. He raised his head to look at Cat's face and was nearly walloped by her right hand. He grabbed her hand in his. "Cat? Baby? Can you hear me?"

He watched for any sign that she was coming out of it, felt her right hand trying to pull out of his grasp. "C'mon, babe! I'm right here! Come back to me!" he whispered fiercely.

She could hear Alex calling her to come back to him. 'I've not gone anywhere, dammit!' She struggled to sit up, move, do anything, but she couldn't make any progress. She moaned. It sounded wimpy to her ears. 'C'mon, don't be a pussy! Say somethin' to him, assure him for cryin' out loud!' She stirred again, opened her mouth. "A-alex?" Her voice came out in a croak.

"I'm here, baby. You're gonna be all right," he whispered, holding her palm against his face, turning his lips to it and kissing it. The radio station was playing Leonard Cohen's '_Hallelujah_'. Tig mentally shared the sentiment.

"Wh-where the Hell am I?" she asked, wincing inwardly at the whiny sound of her voice.

"In bed without me," he replied softly.

"One track mind, bed/bed/bed," she whispered.

He smiled shakily, "You're safe. You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

"Anyone get the license number of that Mack truck?" She took refuge in a very old joke. 'If he can joke around, so can I. Things must not be real serious if he's makin' passes at me.'

He grimaced at her remark, "It was a large rental truck, not a Mack, and it didn't have a license plate."

"What's a body gotta do to get anything to drink around here?"

"Hang on a second," he reached to the bedside table for the water glass and started to extend it to her. 'Shit! She's lying flat on her back, she'll get water all over!'

He touched the bed control, allowing it to raise her, watching her face for signs of discomfort. "I'm just adjusting the bed so you don't get baptized," he explained. Once she was in a semi-reclining position, he placed the bent straw to her lips so she could take a drink. "Better?"

"Uhm," she replied, still sipping.

"Not too fast, babe. It'll come back up if you drink too much," he admonished, removing the straw from her mouth. "You can have more in a bit."

"Why can't I open my eyes?"

'Her left eye's not bandaged, why _can't_ she open it?' He gazed intently at her face, lightly touching her eye to determine the problem. 'Crusted shut. No wonder she can't open it!' He squeezed her hand consolingly. "Don't touch your eyes. I'll be right back."

He went into the bathroom, found and wet a washcloth with warm water, then returned to the bed to find her questing hands feeling her face.

"Damn it!" He snarled in annoyance. "Do you have to be so fuckin' contrary? I _told_ you not to touch!" He sat next to her and forced her hands to her sides. "Lie still and keep your hands down," he admonished her, dabbing the wet cloth on her eye, cleaning the crusted material from it. "Try to open your left eye now," he instructed.

She tried to open both, the right one wouldn't obey at all. 'Somethin's not right. He only said 'left eye', guess I'll give it a try.' She blinked the left one, surprised that it finally obeyed. Her vision was fuzzy but slowly came into focus. She didn't have her glasses, but was able to make out the beloved face in front of her. "Hey," she sighed.

"Hey back," Their greeting was music to his ears; he'd feared he'd never hear it again. "I'm glad you're back."

"Didn't go anywhere," she breathed. "What's goin' on? My chest hurts; it's hard to breathe." She placed her right hand on the binder, trying to loosen it. "Whatever this is, it's too damn tight."

"Sssh. Easy, kitten," he took her hand in his to keep her from adjusting the binder. "You've got cracked ribs, they're wrapped," he replied. "I'll ring the nurse."

"May I help you?" came a voice over the intercom on the bed controls.

"This is Tig Trager. My old lady, Cat Marshall, is awake. The binder on her ribs is hurting her. Could you check it?"

"Please," Cat whispered.

"Please," he added roughly.

"Someone will be there shortly," the voice replied.

"Want me to take care of it?" he asked jokingly, reaching for his knife.

"At the rates they charge? I'll wait for the nurse."

One of the nurses walked in and started to shoo Trager out the door.

Tig glared at the nurse as he stood up to face her. "This is my old lady, I've seen her naked plenty of times. I'm _not_ leaving."

"Suit yourself," she replied, drawing the curtain in front of him in an attempt to give Cat some privacy. Tig stepped around the curtain and stood next to the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. He had a smug 'so there!' expression on his face.

"Tig, play nice," Cat winced from the discomfort she felt.

The nurse decided to ignore him. 'If he wants to watch, so be it. The patient doesn't seem upset by her boyfriend's presence.' The nurse drew the covers down below Cat's waist and gently opened the binder, which was elastic and closed with Velcro.

Cat took a deep breath and moaned. Breathing hurt even more without the binder, but she didn't cry out. "God, it feels good to take a deep breath!"

"Easy, babe. Try to relax," Alex assured her, taking her hand in his.

"I'm going to try to make this a little more comfortable for you. Don't hold your breath, just breathe normally and relax," she said quietly. Before repositioning the binder, she sprinkled talcum power on Cat's chest to prevent chafing. The powder didn't completely cover the bruises. She heard the boyfriend snarl at the sight of the discoloration.

"The bruises will fade over time," the nurse said, using her best professional manner. "Let me know if this is too tight," she added, re wrapping the binder.

"Feels much better, nurse. Thanks."

"Do you need anything for pain?"

"She just woke up! Do you _have _to put her under again?" he objected hotly.

Cat squeezed his hand in warning, but the nurse smiled at her and winked conspiratorially. "You tell me."

"I can get by for a bit."

"OK. Just call when you're ready," the nurse replied.

"If the club's waitin' outside, would you let them know I said 'hi'?" she asked.

She knew who Cat was referring to. There was only one 'club' in Charming. "I will. A few of them are just down the hall," the nurse gave her a smile and walked out the door.

"You didn't have to ask her to do that," Alex admonished her. "I'd have gotten around to it."

"Now they won't have to wait on you," she retorted. "Besides, I've got plans for ya." She scooted herself towards the right side of the bed until she was up against the rail. The move sent new waves of pain through her.

"What the Hell are you doing?"

"Makin' room. Unless you'd rather sit on that chair instead of lie next to me," she patted the mattress invitingly.

"Are you sure?" There was nothing he wanted to do more. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't. I need you, love."

He didn't need any further persuasion. He removed his boots and knife and eased onto the bed next to her, slipping his arm under her head. "This OK?"

She rested her head against his shoulder. "Much better," she whispered. "It was bad, wasn't it, love?"

He kissed the top of her head, gently brushing her hair. "Not exactly my idea of a bedtime story, babe."

She knew he'd been scared for her - maybe for both of them - and that he didn't like that feeling. She depended on him to fill in the blanks for her. She squeezed his hand, wordlessly conveying her need to know.

"OK, " he sighed resignedly. "If you're gonna insist." He quickly told her about the wreck. "I saw two bald headed men, I know they were Aryans. It was something they had planned ahead of time. It wasn't just an immediate response to the rally."

She heard his words, but also heard the stress and fear in his voice that he tried to hide. She listened closely, hated herself. "I'm sorry, Alex," she whispered.

"It's not your fault, baby. I could've put my foot down, not let you hold it. LOAN would've still gone after you and might've done worse than this," he replied.

"You misunderstand. I'm sorry to make you relive it."

"Baby, I didn't misunderstand," he growled. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

She rested her left arm on his side, snuggling as close as she could. She relaxed in his embrace, happy to be with him and to be alive. Her hand slid over to his crotch, and was rewarded with his immediate rise to attention. "That's more like it," she sighed.

"There's no way you're up to anything tonight!" he protested.

"I'm happy to see you, too," she whispered, moving her hand to rest on his hip. Just when he thought she'd fallen asleep, she whispered, "Did I lose my right eye, Alex?"

"Dammit! Do you have to know _now_?"

"Not want to, _need_ to. I don't think the pirate look would be very attractive."

"Oh, I don't know," he replied with a bit of lechery. "I find that bandage over your eye kinda sexy." His expression sobered, "You might be lucky and not need a patch. There was a piece of glass in your eye. The doctors removed it, but we'll have to wait, so don't start obsessing."

"And the rest of the damage?" Her voice sounded more natural. Easing the binder had helped.

'Sometimes she's like the cats after their play mice, and won't quit,' he sighed. "Besides the eye and cracked ribs, you're bruised all over. Broke your nose and a bone in your left arm. Nothing wrong internally, 'cept for rattling your brain."

"Just promise you're not gonna make me wear a brain bucket in the car," she replied.

"Don't tempt me," he shuddered, thinking of how close he'd come to losing her.

* * *

The nurse left Cat's room but instead of heading in the opposite direction like her predecessor, she walked to the waiting room where Pete, Juice, Prospect, and Chibs waited. She walked directly up to Pete, while the riders crowded around him.

"She's awake, gentlemen, and asked me to tell you she says 'hi'," the nurse announced, her attention focused on Pete. "The binder on her ribs was a little too tight, but she's more comfortable now."

"May we see her?" Juice asked.

"Her boyfriend is with her, but if you promise to go in one at a time, and keep the visit short, you can all see her for a bit."

"Thanks, Nurse," Prospect replied for them. "We appreciate the update." His voice remained pleasant, though she'd been quite rude in not looking at any of the Sons when she spoke.

The nurse nodded at Half-Sack and the riders, smiled at Pete and walked on to the nurse's station.

The men looked at one another, trying to decide whether it should be Pete or Chibs who should go visit first.

"Ah, ta 'Ell wid it!" Chibs snorted, stalking down the hall towards Cat's room. "If they're doin' anythin', I'll not be as embarrassed as bhoyo there!"

"You really think Tig would – ow!" Juice's inquiry was cut off by a quick Prospect elbow in the ribs. Half-Sack was thinking of Pete's sensitivities.

They watched as Chibs paused at the door, listening for any 'interesting' sounds. He opened the door a couple of inches and peeked in. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw two figures on the bed; one fully clothed, the other covered in bandages.

"We're decent, brother," Cat assured him, her voice still a little hoarse.

Chibs walked to the right side of the bed to stand opposite Tig and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Jaysus, gurl, ye look like 'Ell," he said quietly, leaning over to kiss her head above the bandage.

"Feel like it," she replied.

"Clay's been 'ere, 'e 'ad ta leave. Prospect, Juice, and yer bhoy Pete are 'ere. Prospect's prolly callin' Clay wid the gud news." Chibs' smile left his face, replaced with an expression of pain and fatigue. "Sis, did ye _hafta_ try ta stop a truck wid yer liddle car?"

She tried to grin, but pain turned it into a grimace. "It seemed a good idea at the time."

"Do us all a favor, darlin', thin' twice aboot it next tyme."

"Not unless I'm drivin' a frackin' tank."

"There ain't gonna be a next time," Tig growled.

"Tig, I know ye just got coomfortable but we need ta talk. Kin ye coome wid me fer a minnit?"

"No! Whatever it is can wait!"

"Tig, go," Cat nudged him with her elbow, trying to tell him non verbally that she didn't mind. "Send the boys in here to keep me company. Chibs needs to tell you somethin' related to the club that I can't be privy to at the moment."

He was reluctant to leave her side. "I _need _to stay here."

She shook her head. "It _has_ to be important, love. Otherwise Chibs wouldn't bring it up now! The sooner all y'all talk, the sooner you can come back. I'm not as mobile as y'all or I'd give y'all some space."

He glared at both of them. Chibs looked both apologetic and uncomfortable while Cat's face had taken on an obstinate, if not pained, set to it.

"A'right," he replied reluctantly. "It'd better be damn fucking important!" He got up, pulled on his boots, and followed Chibs out the door. Chibs signaled the three young men to come to the door.

"She's hurting and refusing the pain meds," Tig advised them tersely. "Do** not** let her over extend herself. Understood?"

The trio nodded as one, knowing he meant business. None of them wanted to spark the short fuse on his temper.

The pair walked down the hall to the waiting lounge, Tig watching warily as the younger men entered his wife's room.

"They'll be careful wid 'er, Tig," Chibs assured him.

"What's so damn fucking important?"

"I didn't wanna say anythin' in front o' Cat n' upset 'er. Clay is callin' in the nomads n' charters, we're goin' on lock down ta protect people affiliated wid us."

Tig pinched his nose with one hand. "We're going after Zobelle and Weston. Shit! Cat can't be moved; she's too weak!"

"'E knows that, Tig. When ye aren't 'ere, a nomad or charter will watch 'er. 'E knows yer trapped between a rock and a hard place, but e's gonna give ye as much leeway as 'e can to be wid 'er and ta take oot Zobelle."

Tig paced the lounge in agitation. He definitely wanted in on the revenge, but he needed to be with Cat. 'So much for thinking I had my priorities in sync!'

"Tig, this is somethin' Cat needs ta know. Ye need ta be th' one ta tell 'er."

Tig shook his head. "I don't want her worrying about me –"

Chibs held up a hand, cutting off Trager's denial. "No, laddie. Ye gotta tell 'er. Let 'er 'elp ye wid this. She's awake and oot o' danger. Ifn ye want ta get revenge for 'er, ye need ta tell 'er. She'll never fergive enny o' us if ye leave n' sumthin' bad 'appens ta ye."

'He's right, damn it! Cat would definitely go on the warpath. She needs to know what's coming. Hell, she might just throw a fit and demand I stay here with her. If she does, I might just learn the meaning of the word 'obey'!'

Pete, Juice, and Half-Sack stood just inside the door to Cat's room, dismayed at the sight before them. Though Prospect had seen Cat's bandaged person earlier, the sight still hurt him.

"Are all y'all gonna stand there like the Three Wise Men, or are y'all gonna get a little closer?" she whispered. "Believe me, I ain't gonna bite. My mouth hurts too much."

Pete was the first to move forward, and stood at the foot her bed. "Hi, Miss Cat."

"Thought you were openin', kiddo."

"Anna and I traded. I needed to be here; find out what you need us to do."

"You and Anna know what needs to be done to keep the coffeehouse runnin'. I want you to get several bags of the whiskey flavored coffee to the clubhouse in the mornin', or maybe one of you two can pick it up,' she glanced at Juice and Sack, who nodded assent.

"Tig - " she paused a moment. She knew what lay ahead, but had to phrase her words to Pete very carefully. "Tig is gonna be busy for awhile, and won't be at the house very much. I need you to take care of the kitties, Pete. There's a spare key to the house under the middle desk drawer. Keep 'em at the store with you while it's open, get 'em home at closin', and feed 'em, naturally." She was panting and sweating. The effort of speaking so much tired her.

"Consider it done, Miss Cat. You can count on me," Pete replied.

"I know, darlin'. Take down the room phone number, call whenever ya need to. Also, move my bike into the garage, put it on the battery tender. You've seen me do that before. Don't know how long I'll be off the bike and don't want the battery runnin' down."

"I'll get it done, Miss Cat," Pete replied, his eyes brimming with tears. 'I don't know how I'll do it when that thing scares me to Death, but I'll manage it, somehow.'

She nodded. "I know you will, darlin'. Now scoot, y'all got a lot of work ahead of ya."

Pete touched her foot, afraid it'd hurt her to do anything more demonstrative. He'd never seen his employer look so fragile. She was such a dynamo that seeing her injuries made him hurt for her. "Yes ma'am. Anna or I will keep you in the loop." He copied the telephone number then fled from the room. He was nearly in tears and didn't want his boss or the riders to see him cry.

Cat motioned the two riders over. "All y'all _are _gonna be busy, aren't ya, Kip?"

Prospect and Juice looked at each other, both wondering just how to answer that question. Their silence was all the confirmation she needed. "You know I'm no longer on a 'need to know' basis about the club. All the attacks - Otto, Gemma, Chibs, maybe LuAnn, me - Hell, Ray Charles could read the writin' on the wall without usin' his fingers to feel the Braille!"

Prospect sat down on the chair next to the right side of the bed, his eyes troubled. "I don't know how you figured it out, Lady Cat. Yes, we're all gonna be busy pretty soon."

"After tellin' me the other day that the club had no secrets from me, but needin' to talk to Tig in private tonight, it wasn't hard to figure out. Don't forget to get the coffee. Want y'all to have some decent stuff while you're on lock down."

The pair glanced at each other, both startled by her comment. Neither had said a word to her about a lock down, but she knew it was going to happen. Despite her condition, she was doing her best to support them.

"You shouldn't be concerned with our comfort right now, Lady Cat!" Half-Sack protested. One look at her expression barred him from any further protest. " OK. I'll take care of it tomorrow morning for you."

She nodded her thanks.

"Lots of people have sent messages on the store Facebook and web pages," Juice added. "Pete helped me make an update on both. The pod cast has gotten a lot of hits since the accident."

She nodded again, exhausted from the small amount of conversation she'd had with her three visitors. "Thanks, guys."

Chibs and Tig returned to the room, giving the younger riders the signal to leave. Tig glared at Juice; he'd heard the bit about the website and wasn't happy about it. 'Maybe it's better to have her status updated where people can easily access it.' He'd have preferred that nothing about her condition become general knowledge, but what was done couldn't be undone.

Both young men surprised Cat by leaning over to kiss her right hand before they scampered out the door.

Chibs walked up to her again. "Tis glad I am ta see ye awake, Lady Cat." He reached into his cut pocket and removed her glasses, placing them on the rolling table. "Yer glasses are ok, nary a scratch! They'll be right 'ere when ye want 'em. I'd stay 'ere wid ye, but two's company, three's one too many." He kissed her right cheek and turned to follow after the others. "Love ya, sis."

* * *

Frosty Stills settled in front of his computer and accessed the _Charming Pawse_ webpage. He'd planned to attend the rally in person and perform, but a meeting for his radio show had lasted longer than anticipated, so that he couldn't leave in time to make the drive.

He was disappointed at not being able to take part, as he'd wanted to support Cat's effort. 'I'm glad I didn't tell her to expect me, it would've really disappointed her. At least I can still watch. Good idea of her to have a live web feed of the rally.' A slight smile crossed his features. 'I'd love to have been a fly on the wall to hear the conversation between her and Alex!'

He wouldn't have blamed Trager if he'd not allowed it. Frosty had been a little concerned himself when he'd read about the rally on the store's webpage, and received an invite through the Facebook account. His concern grew once he read the article in the Charming newspaper and learned she was going up against LOAN. The group sounded much more aggressive than the groups she'd protested in the past.

Right on the dot of 7PM, the computer screen lit up to reveal the stage, and Frosty heard the bells that introduced '_Sweet Cherry Wine_'. He turned off the desk light, sat back, and watched entranced as the program unfolded before him.

He listened intently to the business owner's damaging words, sharing Cat's fury at the man's attitude. 'Cat knows her stuff,' he thought proudly, 'she really put together a good opening.'

He felt chills travel up his spine as her voice pierced the darkness in the opening number. He vaguely remembered hearing it on the easy listening stations in the early 80s. 'Good touch in having other voices join her from around the room.'

Her request for monetary assistance for the local motorcycle club caught him off guard. 'Why would she be asking for donations for a bunch of outlaws?" He wasn't able to give it much thought as the program continued.

"I knew she'd include a KISS tune!" He laughed, watching all the performers, including a bearded man in a leather vest, return to the stage for the closing number. It didn't surprise him to see Alex leap onto the stage and 'cut in' on the singer dancing with Cat. "Still possessive, I see," he noticed that Alex wore a vest similar to the bearded singer, but again paid it little mind. The camera was too far away to enable him to read the patches on the vests.

Frosty was impressed with the rally. The opening montage had been a crowning achievement. He could tell from the way it stirred him that Cat had worked hard on it, and he hoped the residents of Charming would work together to peacefully drive out the hate group.

He wrote up a congratulatory email and sent it to her personal address. He knew Cat would appreciate his comments and feedback. He'd be sure to make mention of it on his show the next day, and linked the pod cast to his own Facebook page and his radio program's website. The more publicity he could give her endeavor, the more communities might wake up and see what was wrong in their own back yards.

He checked the Stockton area television web sites for news of the rally; only one television station had sent a news crew to cover the event. That really didn't surprise him.

He watched the report, and was again confused to hear Alex referred to as her boyfriend instead of her husband and that he was a member of the motorcycle club. His confusion grew when Cat didn't correct the reporter in the interview. 'What gives with that?' he wondered, getting ready to send her another email.

A breaking news alert popped on the website. It was very brief, but it made the blood in his veins turn cold as ice.

"Charming, CA." the dateline read. "There is a report of a two vehicle accident near the Charming United Methodist Church where a peace rally was held earlier this evening. The planner of the event, Cat Marshall, is reported to be in critical condition at St. Thomas Hospital. 

The other vehicle left the scene. No one else was injured. No other details are available at this time. Charming Police are continuing to investigate. Lodi PD is assisting. " 

Frosty downloaded Mapquest and plugged in his address and the hospital's name. While the directions printed, he gathered his wallet, keys, and a couple of changes of clothes. At the last minute, he added a costume he'd kept from a recent TV commercial for his radio show.

'Depending on what time I get to Charming, it might come in handy,' he thought. 'At least it sounds like Alex is OK. Awfully strange for her to be hurt in an accident right after the rally.'

He ran to his car, dialing the program director to advise that he would be taking a personal day due to an emergency.

* * *

Alex removed his boots again and eased back onto the bed next to Cat, sliding his arm under her head and drawing it back on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head. "How're you feeling?"

"Like a truck hit me," she replied.

"Do you want the pain meds?"

She shook her head. "Not yet, love," she pleaded.

He stroked her hair. "Brave, aggravating, annoying, stubborn, irritating female! You've gotta be hurting, why won't you take it?"

"We need to talk, love. There's somethin' I need to know, isn't there?"

Her direct question startled him. "What did they tell you?" His hand involuntarily dug into her shoulder. 'If they told her about the lock down, I'll kill 'em both!'

She inwardly winced at the additional pain from his grasp, though she knew it was a normal physical reaction on his part to thinking the 'boys' had blurted something they shouldn't have. "They didn't _have_ to tell me anything, love. I _knew_ somethin' was up when Chibs asked you to go outside to talk."

He immediately regretted his angry reaction as he realized he was hurting her. "Damn, baby! I'm sorry!" He apologetically stroked her cheek with his thumb. He knew her mouth was sore, but he wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt like a knee in the nuts. Instead, he kissed her head above the bandage. 'I chose a gem when I picked her. Her intelligence is as much a gift as her decency, spirit, and occasional fire. Chibs is right, I'm gonna have to tell her. Damn her!'

He took a deep breath and replied, "Clay's putting as many people on lock down at the club as possible. I have to be there. We're going after Zobelle and Weston. I don't want you to worry about me, or your safety. You'll be protected. The charters are coming in. When I'm not here, a brother will be."

She gazed into his eyes and resolutely replied, "It's OK, love. While you and Chibs were in the hall, I asked Pete to take care of the cats; told him you wouldn't be home much. That should let you concentrate on doin' what y'all gotta do."

He stared at her in surprise. 'Shit! She's got every right to demand I stay here. That _I_ be the one to keep her safe. She's not gonna pitch a bitch; giving me the freedom to do what I have to do. I won't be here for her physically, but she knows I'm gonna watch out for her.'

His heart swelled with love and pride. Hoping that it wouldn't hurt her too much, he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. She responded, but he could tell it was hurting her. This time, he didn't ask if she wanted the medicine, but pressed the call button to get it for her.

"May I help you?"

"This is Tig Trager. My lady is in a lot of pain. Would you bring her pain medicine, please?"

Cat smiled at him for using the 'P' word. She knew he wasn't used to using it, but he was trying for her sake.

The nurse entered the room, not too surprised to see the biker laying in the bed with her patient. She actually envied the woman, having someone so tough looking, yet so caring, in her corner.

"Her heart rate's a little elevated," the nurse observed.

"That's just because of this handsome fella's presence," Cat replied.

"Don't let her fool you, Nurse," Tig countered. "We're gonna have our hands full getting her to behave."

"We're used to that, Mr. Trager. I have to ask her a question before I give her the medicine. Ms. Marshall, on a scale of 1 to 10 -"

"Twelve," Cat interjected.

"Fair enough." The nurse had brought a syringe, and quickly inserted the medicine into the IV. She smiled at Trager and added, "I suggest you two take it easy tonight, OK?"

"You have my word, Nurse," Tig grinned. "She might look sexy in all that bondage gear, but I can do without tonight."

"See that you do," the nurse replied flippantly. "We want her to get better, not worse. It wouldn't help her if I have to have you banned for misbehaving." She smiled at the two of them and left the room.

"Shameless flirt," Cat murmured.

"Me? Flirt? I was just trying to be friendly," he laughed softly. "Or are you referring to her?"

"You," she replied, settling her head on his shoulder again. "How much longer will you stay?"

"The rest of the night. If I'm gone when you wake up, you know why. But your guard has to stay in the chair, understand?"

"Yassir!" she murmured.

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Love you, too," she murmured, feeling the medicine beginning to take effect. Her eye was getting heavy, but she wanted to be awake with him for awhile. The day to come was filled with uncertainties.

Alex had other ideas. He stroked her hair and whispered soothing words. Between the sound of his voice, his touch, and the medication, she was soon asleep.

He relaxed at last, listening to her breathe. He watched the rise and fall of her chest under the covers and the binder. The danger of losing her was finally past.

'The bruises, cuts, and broken bones will heal. Maybe her eye will be OK. Maybe not. Zobelle and Weston are marked men. Clay and Jax already have their claim on 'em. I want the driver of that fucking truck!' His own eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep. This time, the sleep was without dreams.

That's how the nurse found them when she came through for a routine check of the IV lines and Cat's vitals. She stood gazing at the protective yet tender way the outlaw held her patient. 'That guy's intimidating when he's awake, he doesn't look as ferocious now. He was pretty decent when she woke up. She's one lucky woman.'

She could tell how much the outlaw cared for his lady, and the woman obviously loved him. 'I'm beginning to think that Ms. Murphy is wrong about the Sons. They're not bad at all. The ones I've seen and talked to tonight have behaved decently. They certainly care about their own, just like any family.'

* * *

Frosty was bone weary, but determined to see his friend, Cat Trager - or Marshall as the news report had given - and see for himself that she was alive. The 'accident' was too co-incidental for his taste. He knew it had to have been planned ahead of time by LOAN as retaliation.

He'd driven all night from Los Angeles, stopping only long enough for gas and necessary breaks. When he reached Charming and the hospital, it was very early morning and several long hours before visiting time. 'Glad I decided to bring this outfit along.' He changed in a bathroom just off the ER entrance and made his way through the hospital.

The doctors' scrub suit, complete with surgical cap, enabled him to blend in perfectly with the night shift. The news report stated she was in critical condition, so Frosty knew she'd either be in ICU or the critical floor, whichever the hospital offered.

The disguise worked so well that Frosty was able to walk directly into the nurses' station on the critical care floor and study the various charts, until he found the one labeled 'C. Marshall' with the room number. 'Why does everyone up here refer to her by her maiden name?'

He walked down the corridor to her room, took a deep breath, quietly opened the door and slipped inside. He paused just inside to give his eyes time to adjust to the dim light.

The room TV was turned on and he could hear a local radio station playing. He could make out two shapes in the bed by the glow cast from the TV, one male and fully-dressed; the other was bandaged and female. He recognized Alex, and knew he'd found the right room.

'They're asleep. I'll leave and come back a little later. Thank God she's alive,' he sighed softly with relief. 'Otherwise, Alex wouldn't be lying there with her.'

He turned to the door, but was stopped by Trager's low voice. "I wondered when you'd show up, Frosty."

Trager's declaration startled him. "What made you think I'd come?" he asked, moving closer to the hospital bed. Frosty's eyes teared at the sight of his friend's injuries.

"Because of her Facebook page and website having an update on her condition. I knew once you read about it, you'd be here." He took in Frosty's strained features and added, "She's critical, but she woke up for awhile. She's in a lot of pain."

"I saw the podcast, then there was an internet news item about the wreck. Who would do such a thing?"

"It's a long story. I'd rather not go into it right now."

Frosty moved a little closer to the bed but stopped short when his eyes took in the patch on Alex's vest that was partially obscured by Cat's body. Two other patches were plainly visible on the right side of his vest: 'Redwood' and 'Original'. His eyes widened as he realized what it meant.

"The TV story wasn't wrong! That's an outlaw club patch, isn't it?"

It wasn't a question, but Trager responded to it. "Sons of Anarchy. I'm the Sergeant at Arms."

"As well as Cat's husband."

"Yeah. That's something we _do_ need to discuss. Here in Charming, only two people know we're married."

"Cat's idea, knowing her."

Trager nodded.

"Not to worry, Alex. If it'll protect her, I can keep the secret."

"It will. Thanks." Tig's eyes narrowed as he gazed over Frosty's medical outfit. "Clever of you to dress up like a medic. I'm gonna have to talk to hospital security. You shouldn't have been able to sneak that from a supply room."

"I didn't. I kept this from a commercial I made for my radio station. Brought it with me and glad I did. I was able to get in here without question."

"That's what bothers me. No offense, but if you could do it, anyone else could, too. I hope the assholes who did this to her don't get similar ideas."

Frosty's heart skipped a beat. "Oh, man! I never thought of that!" There was a few moments of silence between the pair before Frosty spoke again, "It was LOAN, wasn't it?"

Tig's eyes blazed at his wife's friend. "What the fuck do you know about them?"

"Just what I found on the internet after reading the news article on her website," Frosty replied. "I had a bad feeling about the rally once I read up on 'em. They make the Klan look like a country club garden society in comparison, and the Klan could do some pretty nasty shit!"

Frosty and Alex were talking softly and keeping their voices down. Cat stirred at the sound of Alex's voice and moaned before snuggling against him without waking.

"Was this retaliation for the rally?" Frosty asked.

"I'm pretty sure it was. I wish now I'd put a stop to the damn thing. I knew there'd be trouble, but -"

"When Cat makes up her mind to do something, Alex, you can't stop her," Frosty interjected. "Even if you'd gone all male chauvinist and forbidden her, she'd have gone on ahead with it and we'd still be here for the same reason!"

"Yeah, I know," Alex sighed. "I just hate seeing her racked up like this."

"That makes two of us," Frosty stood up, moved closer to the bed, and took Cat's right hand in his. He bent down and kissed the back of it. "I'll be back, kitten," he whispered.

"Where can I find you?"

"I'll be in that waiting area down the hall."

"A'right."

Frosty nodded and left the room. Alex looked down at his wife's face, grimacing at the black, blue, and purple bruises. He kissed her cheek and settled back to sleep again, reminding himself to share his concerns about fake medical personnel with the charters and nomads.

* * *

Clay was weary when he arrived at the garage lot the following morning. Quinn, Happy, and the Nomads were already present, so Clay issued assignments to them until Piney arrived with Mary.

Piney's job was to oversee the nomads guarding the rooftops and the garage/clubhouse lot. He would also assign escorts for any civilians who had to leave the grounds.

Gemma was out with one of the croweaters, purchasing groceries and other necessary items for an extended period. They'd taken the Escalade as Chibs was using the van to haul families to the clubhouse.

The charter club from Portland that played on Cat's basketball team the day before LuAnn's funeral checked in, and approached Piney as a group. "Don't worry about the guards for Puddy Cat," the leader, known as 'Stone Coyote', announced. "We'll take care of her when Tig can't be with her."

Piney nodded in assent. He'd watched the pick up game, and knew the group respected Cat. "I can't think of a better group of men to post there," he replied.

Stone Coyote nodded in response, only his eyes betrayed his sadness. 'I mocked her ability to ref the game. Didn't think an old girl like her could keep up. Boy, she sure showed me!' She had earned his respect by making fair calls and when an injury caused a line up shuffle, by playing hard and leading the team back from a deficit, nearly defeating the mother charter. He turned to his crew to map out shifts. He would take the first one.

* * *

Hale and Unser waited as long as they could, but they eventually had to release Weston from custody. Dawn was streaking the night sky with pastel highlights when Weston walked out of CPD.

He inhaled deeply of the early morning air, secure in the knowledge that he'd 'gotten away' with the ambush on Cat Marshall; as far as CPD was concerned. 'I'll get an earful from Zobelle, but it's worth it. Even though the Marshall bitch didn't die, I've made an impression on that club.'

He walked to his car and gazed at the cheaply repaired taillight. 'Somebody fixed it. Still shows the affect the ambush had on Trager; he missed my head by a country mile!'

Weston smiled in grim satisfaction and climbed into his Bronco, heading for his empty home. He'd have a shower, eat, and get a change of clothes. He already felt like a new man. A man with a mission and in full control.

He actually had two missions ahead of him, to get his boys back and to get Zobelle recommitted to The Cause.

* * *

The casual observer wouldn't know that anything was bothering Ethan Zobelle. His suit was clean, pressed, and expensive looking. A crisp, white handkerchief was folded into the jacket pocket. His dark colored tie was made of silk and evenly knotted under his collar. His shoes were shined to a high polish. Not one strand of his grey hair was out of place.

Internally, Zobelle was tied up in knots about AJ Weston. He'd learned of the ambush on the late night news and immediately knew AJ had planned it. 'I should have watched him more closely, instead of thinking he would obey my warning. There are no 'do overs' in real life. This has the potential to put major obstacles in my way. The Sons will know that AJ was behind the ambush on Miss Marshall, and will lay blame at my feet.'

The store was quiet. Weston hadn't come in yet and Polly was off on an errand. Zobelle had a pretty good idea that the errand involved the young Irishman's bed. 'I should nip that in the bud. A romantic entanglement will only make things more difficult if we have to leave in a hurry. That has become more of a probability as of last night.'

He turned on the expensive wavelength sound system, unlocked the front door and turned the business sign from 'closed' to 'open'. His area of Main Street was unusually quiet. There was a lot of activity at the coffeehouse. Zobelle noticed a larger number of Harleys than usual parked out front.

'The club is making a show of support to Miss Marshall,' he mused. 'They might have their suspicions, but if they learned anything from the Morado incident, they will not react in haste. For now, I will proceed with business as usual, but will have to remain vigilant.'

The bell above the front door tinkled merrily. Zobelle glanced up as Weston walked in. Ule, who Zobelle trusted for certain 'other matters', followed. 'And so, the day begins!'

* * *

A few hours after Frosty's visit, Stone Coyote walked into Cat's hospital room. Trager and Cat were sound asleep. The breakfast trays were being delivered; one would soon be brought to her room. The charter president nudged Trager, who woke with a start. "It's OK, man. The Natives delivered the ammo; Clay needs you back at the clubhouse. I'll take good care of Puddy Cat."

"'K," he replied, easing his arms from his wife. Though he tried to be gentle, his movements jostled and woke her up.

"Hey," she croaked, her voice groggy from sleep and the medicine.

"Hey back. Go back to sleep, babe."

"Awake now. Want to say goodbye. I take it your replacement's here?"

"Yeah. Feel any better?"

"No."

"You'll be safe."

She nodded. He sat up, reached for his boots, and moved to the chair to put them on. Then he stood and fastened his knife back onto his belt.

A nursing aide walked in with Cat's breakfast tray, placed it on the table and left without speaking.

"Gee, was it somethin' I said?" Cat remarked.

"Ignore it." Alex raised the bed up and moved the table forward for her. He lifted the cover from the plate and she grimaced at the smell.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly. 'Is she hurting from my sleeping with her, or is the food makin' her sick?'

She pointed at three slices on the plate. "Bacon. Greasy and fried."

He popped one of the offending morsels in his mouth. "Waste not, want not."

She sipped the coffee, smiling wryly at his ability to eat what she couldn't. She frowned at the contents of the cup. "Chibs is right. Warm piss with a black crayon melted in it."

"Have you ever tasted warm piss?" Trager took a sip and grimaced. "Yuck! We need to get some of your brew over here."

She ate some of the scrambled eggs, though their taste was barely passable. They were soft and didn't hurt her to eat them. She gave Alex the orange juice she couldn't drink and showed some of her usual fire when he opened the milk carton for her and ordered her to drink it. "Christ, Alex!"

"Just Alex will do. You know you need it to get stronger," he retorted, looking from her to the still full plate on the table_._

"I'm just not up to eatin' much right now," she shoved the tray at him. "Eat. You don't know when you'll get a chance again. They'll feed me again." She lay back against the pillows. The effort involved in sitting up and eating had worn her out.

Stone Coyote had stopped at _Charming Pawse_ and had his own breakfast. He knew when three was a crowd. "I'll be down the hall, Tig. Take yer time with Puddy Cat," he slipped out the door as silently as he'd entered.

"A'right," Tig replied as the door closed behind the charter. He eyed the pile of bland scrambled eggs and toast, trying to ignore the rumbling of his stomach.

Cat heard it and grinned, "Eat, love. Please. I'll feel better knowin' you've had somethin' to tide ya over."

Alex sat on the bed beside her and proceeded to inhale the contents of the tray. He'd never gotten around to eating the snack the first nurse had brought to him, and his stomach was empty. "Frosty's here," he announced between mouthfuls. "He's just down the hall in the waiting room. He knows the truth, about us, Cat."

She winced, for once, not from physical pain. "Damn. Sorry 'bout that."

He stroked her left cheek tenderly. "He's OK with it. I'll clear him with the charters."

She nodded, too tired to talk.

"Clay's gonna address everyone. I'll call so you can hear him," he continued, popping the last bit of toast in his mouth. He stood up and went to the closet, opened it, and rummaged in the bag of her belongings, withdrawing her bracelet from it.

The sight of her wedding ring and chain laying in the bag brought the dream he'd had about McLaughlin to mind. He recalled the specter's scathing words about his commitment to her. 'I can change that. Not right now, but I _will _make some changes in the status quo.'

The room phone rang, Tig moved to it and picked it up. "What?"

"It's Chibs, bruther. I'm out front with the van. Whenever you're ready."

"Be there shortly." He hung up the phone, returned to her side and slipped the bracelet over her right wrist. "You'll be safe, babe. Rest. Get better. I'll be back when you least expect it, so you'd better behave yourself."

"I expect you back in one piece," she murmured drowsily.

He kissed her, holding her as close as he could without hurting her. He placed his hand over her left eye, pulling the lid shut with gentle fingers. "Sleep, baby."

She sighed, reached her hand up to his, and fell back to sleep. He stood and watched her for a moment, making sure she wasn't faking. He squeezed her hand and placed it on the bed. Then he turned and walked out the door.

He found Stone Coyote in the waiting area sitting with Frosty, who had changed into street clothes. Neither man seemed aware of the other's presence.

Tig motioned to Frosty. "This is a friend of Cat's, Frosty Stills. He's OK. There's a minister – tall, blondish, about Cat's age. He's the only minister who'll be visiting. You've been to the coffeehouse?"

Stone Coyote nodded.

"Then you've seen some of her staff. They're OK, too. Watch her well, man. Anyone wearing medical garb who enters the room and arouses your suspicions, question them. When the phone rings, you or whoever spells you answer it. Only her dad, step-brother, staff or myself will be calling. I don't wanna talk to the hospital staff by phone unless it's an emergency."

"OK if I pick up?" Frosty asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Any questions?"

"None. Don't expect you to remember; I'm one of the guys that was on Puddy Cat's basketball team. I'm Stone Coyote – my charter is gonna take turns guarding her."

"Appreciate it, man."

"Clay said to tell you Kozik is here."

"Shit!" Tig pinched his nose with one hand, shaking his head. "Appreciate the intel." He gazed longingly at the door to his wife's room, nodded at Frosty and Stone Coyote, then turned and strode down the hall.

The pair quietly entered the room to find Cat sound asleep. It was difficult for Stone Coyote to believe that this was the same woman who'd played basketball with his club just a few days earlier.

He glanced at Frosty. "You're a friend of Puddy Cat's, and that's OK by me. Tig cleared you, and I'll clear you with the rest of the guys. Mind if I turn on the tube?"

Frosty shook his head. He was still a little overwhelmed by what he'd learned about Alex. 'This is gonna take some getting used to. The man who just left is the polar opposite of the one I met at the reunion! The one common denominator is his fierce protectiveness of her!'

Stone Coyote reached for the controls and turned on the TV, scrolling through the channels until he found something interesting. He settled in the chair next to the bed and put the control nearby so he could hear without disturbing his friend.

Frosty sat in the chair on the other side of Cat's bed, watching her sleep and trying not to cry at the sight of the bruises and bandages. "So do you know what happened to her?"

"Just what I've been told. A large rental truck broadsided her car. The League of American Nationalists has been hittin' the club hard. Others besides Puddy Cat have been hurt. She sponsored some kind of rally against them last night."

Frosty nodded. "I saw the podcast. She really socked it to 'em. I read the news of the wreck on an area TV station website. This club of yours, Sons of Anarchy, are y'all going after the bastards that did this?"

Stone Coyote answered with a look.

"Good," the broadcaster replied approvingly.

* * *

Kozik and the Tacoma charter had ridden though the night, reaching Charming at first light. The ride had been quiet, giving Kozik plenty of time to think about the upcoming reunion with Tig.

'Except for the occasional big bash or charity event, I've not had much opportunity to get him alone since her funeral. I'm really going to enjoy sticking it to him, and he won't be able to do anything about it!'

Kozik strode into the Redwood clubhouse as if he owned it, looking for any sign of Trager, but the man was nowhere around. The garage was closed, all the bay doors were shut, so he knew Trager wouldn't be in there. Then he overheard someone mention Tig was holding vigil at the hospital over his old lady.

'That son of a bitch! He wouldn't have done that for _her_!' Anger flared in Kozik's heart. 'I wanna learn everything I can about that piece of sweetbutt. She's got an education due!'

Kozig carefully schooled his features, not allowing his expression to betray his inner outrage. He made casual rounds of the clubhouse, eavesdropping on conversations as he passed various groups, shutting out those that didn't concern Tig's old lady.

* * *

The coffeehouse had been busy since it opened that morning. Many area residents and a large number of out of town Sons had come through at one time or another. The locals were upset over the accident and blamed LOAN and Zobelle for it.

Anna did her best to persuade the townspeople that it was just an accident, but her attempts weren't successful. Everyone she spoke to said the same thing, that the timing was just too co-incidental.

"We're passing the word, we're boycotting their store, letting them know we don't want their message!" Anna heard that comment often that morning.

Prospect took the garage van out to pick up the bags of whiskey blend. He insisted on paying for the bags of coffee and several boxes of baked goods. He also took the opportunity to update Anna on the club's situation.

"It's gonna be news around town, soon. You might as well hear it from one of us. Club's going on lock down. Cat'll be OK, we'll have people guarding her at the hospital, and we'll have people here during business hours."

"Thank you, Mr. Kip," Anna sighed with relief. "Please tell Mr. Clay thanks for thinking of us. We know he has a lot on his mind."

"We always look out for our own. We'd watch over you even if we didn't have a stake in the place. You'll all be safe."

The cats appeared in their windowed room, much to Anna's surprise.

"Lady Cat asked Pete to take care of 'em when she came to. She wanted to keep their routine as normal as possible," Half-Sack explained.

Pete entered the store through the back entrance and nodded at Prospect.

"Did you get the bike moved into the garage?"

Pete shook his head. "I'm scared to Death of that thing. I was hoping maybe one of you bikers could help."

Kip grinned. "I've got a few minutes to spare."

The two men walked out the back to the garage. Pete unlocked the house and went into the garage to open the door.

Half Sack was relieved to find the key to the Yamaha hanging on the key holder. "Without the key, we'd never get the bike moved!" He unlocked the bike and the pair pushed the bike into the garage, and he set it up on the battery tender as Pete watched.

"Guess I'm a better barista than motorcyclist," Pete murmured ruefully.

"Ah, it's OK, man. You know more about coffee than I'll ever know."

"Miss Cat said last night Mr. Tig's gonna be pretty busy. From what you said to Anna, I gather you guys are going after LOAN?"

Kip looked at Pete, surprised by his acceptance of the fact. "You approve?"

"Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire, and this is one of those times. Like Miss Anna said, we appreciate you guys looking out for us, considering what lies ahead. Good luck, man."

The pair shook hands, then returned to the coffeehouse. Pete took up his duties while Prospect exited the store to deliver the van back to the garage.

* * *

Lyla opened the door to her apartment, pleasantly surprised to find Opie standing in the door frame.

"Good morning!" She smiled at him, but he didn't return the greeting or the smile. She'd only seen him smile once since they'd hooked up, and that was in his bedroom.

"I wish it were," Opie replied quietly. "I've come to tell you the club's going after LOAN, and we're going on lock down. I want you to go there so you and Piper will be safe."

"You want me to do _what_?" Lyla yelled, glaring at Opie's passive face. She looked past Opie to the driveway where Piney waited with the Cadillac. "You have _got_ to be kidding."

"I'm not. This is necessary, Lyla," Opie replied quietly. "I can't concentrate on what needs to be done if I have to worry about you and Piper being targets."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself and my son!" Lyla snorted.

'It wasn't that long ago that you were begging for my protection against Georgie, ' Opie didn't vocalize his feelings, he simply looked at her.

"There's no need for us to stay at the clubhouse, just because Cat was careless last night - "

"She _wasn't_ careless. Tig was right behind her when she was ambushed." Opie stepped forward, placed both hands on Lyla's arms and gazed into her eyes. "I _need_ you to do this – for me – for us."

Lyla seethed inside. 'He _would_ play that card! Why do I have to be inconvenienced on account of Tig's woman? She's already sent my three best friends out of town! I shouldn't have to be put through this! It's not fair!'

Opie continued gazing at her, hoping that she'd agree to go. 'She's upset about her friends having to leave. She's not used to this kind of thing. She's scared, that's all. She'll come around.'

Lyla glared at her lover, but he didn't speak, just continued gazing intently and waiting. "Oh, all right! You win!" she sighed resignedly. "Give me time to pack a few things!"

Piper had been eating breakfast during their exchange. "Hurry up and finish your breakfast, baby," she advised while she gathered a few changes of clothes into a gym bag. When Piper was finished, she rinsed his dishes. 'God only knows how we'll be gone. Be damned if I'll come home to bugs crawling all over the place!'

She placed a gentle hand on her son's shoulder. "Go get your teddy, honey. Opie's taking us on an adventure. We're not staying at Opie's house, but someplace different for a few nights."

Piper ran off to his room, returning quickly with his bear, which she added to the gym bag. Opie walked downstairs with her son while she locked the door.

Opie met her at the foot of the stairs and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close to him. "Thank you. You won't regret this." He kissed her soundly before taking the bag from her and handed it to Piney.

Piper climbed into the back of the Cadillac where Opie's children were sitting. Lyla tried to relax in her man's embrace, but she was still upset. 'I already regret this,' she thought angrily. 'I don't enjoy the idea of having to be in close confines with that doctor bitch and her holier than me attitude!'

Her body language telegraphed her displeasure. She plopped into the front seat of Piney's Caddy, glaring at nothing and wishing she were going someplace else. "Anyplace, even my parents, would be better than the clubhouse with Tara!"

As they traveled the short distance to the Teller-Morrow lot, Lyla's thought back to the previous evening with Kalai, KD, and Lanai. The night of the rally was their last day. Lyla decided against going to the rally to help them pack and to say goodbye. Piper had been disappointed that he wouldn't get to perform with his classmates, but she needed to be with her friends and couldn't get a sitter.

They played the radio while packing clothes and other incidentals, which is how they learned of the accident. It was the lead story on the local hourly newscast.

The three girls had glanced at KD as soon as the story identified Cat Marshall as the accident victim. They were fearful of KD's reaction to the news.

"You don't have to worry," KD assured them quietly. "I'm not going to go running off to the hospital to comfort Tig. He doesn't want my comfort, or anything else from me. He made that abundantly clear at the police station!"

They relaxed at her announcement, satisfied that KD wouldn't get herself or the twins in more trouble by reneging on the agreement to leave town. They continued packing and loaded the sisters' car.

"Do you know where you're going?" Lyla had asked the twins as the last boxes and bags were loaded in their vehicle.

Kalai nodded. "We're going to try our luck in Vegas. They can always use dancers. Maybe we can try out for one of the big musicals or floor shows."

"We're going to get out of porn. It's getting too dangerous these days," Lanai added, hugging Lyla and settling in behind the steering wheel.

KD and Lyla watched them drive away, then Lyla had driven KD to the bus station, Piper sound asleep in the back seat. He awoke long enough to walk into the bus station lobby, then fell asleep again on a bench. The two women waited in silence until the overhead PA announced KD's bus was ready to depart and the gate number.

Piper had whined about waking up to go to the gate with them, it was past his bedtime, and Lyla tried not to lose her patience. She walked KD to the gate and they embraced before KD climbed onto the bus. Lyla waved goodbye as the bus pulled away, carrying KD back across country to the Atlantic coast and her family.

When she and Piper arrived at the clubhouse, Lyla threw herself onto a plaid couch, sitting with legs crossed and a large pout on her face. None of the other women bothered to come near her. The fact that Opie didn't have time for her did nothing to improve her disposition.

* * *

Kozik moved amongst the locals, listening in to the various conversations as more people entered the clubhouse. Some of the new arrivals carried cups bearing paw prints and the words '_Charming Pawse'_. He'd seen the same design on the bags of coffee and boxes of pastries that Prospect had brought in.

His covert eavesdropping enabled him to learn that the coffeehouse was owned by Tig's old lady. He knew her name, Cat Marshall, and that it was believed she'd been ambushed by LOAN after hosting a rally against the group. 'She appears to be well liked by the club and the town. Sounds like Tiggy hooked up with some kind of saint! This just keeps getting better and better! I'll definitely have to check out that place _and_ Tig's old lady!'

Kozik heard someone inquire about Cat Marshall and the accident the night before. Kozik turned his attention to the speaker, and was surprised the person was talking to a cop. 'What the fuck are the cops doing here?" He relaxed when he took in the officer's shirt collar insignia. 'Oh, it's the police chief. I heard that Clay had him on the payroll."

Kozik leaned casually against the wall, listening in on the police chief's response. The cop held a cup from the same coffeehouse. "There's nothing new to report, we're still looking for the truck that hit her car and left the scene. Tig's still at the hopsital, she's listed in critical condition."

Kozik walked away from the little group, a sardonic smile lighting his face. The smile wasn't reflected in his eyes, which glinted like hard steel. 'First chance I get, I'm going to St. Vincent!'

* * *

Before leaving the hospital, Tig stopped at the information desk. He didn't want Cat's room phone ringing off the hook and disturbing her. Nor did he want the wrong people to find out where she could be located.

He waited for the volunteer to finish with a call and stepped up to the desk. "Who do I talk to about limiting calls to Cat Marshall's room?"

"I can help you, sir. May I ask why you're interested?"

"She's my old lady. I wanna make sure she doesn't get disturbed by calls that aren't from me, her family, or her business."

The volunteer nodded. She had attended the rally, and had seen the rider interact with the businesswoman/host of the rally. She had been shocked and angered when the news came out about the wreck, a feeling shared by the majority of the hospital staff.

"If you give me the names of her family, I'll see to it that they are the only persons who get her phone number and her condition. Any other requests will be denied unless you, or Miss Marshall, of course, say otherwise."

Trager was momentarily caught off guard by the volunteer's willingness to assist him. He quickly recovered, providing the names of Cat's father and step-brother.

"You should know, sir, the town appreciates what she did. There are a lot of us here at the hospital pulling for her – and for the Sons."

Tig wasn't used to such public support, but he accepted it with a quiet "Thank you." Then he turned and strode to the entrance where Chibs waited with the van to take him to Teller - Morrow.

He climbed into the passenger seat as Chibs turned down the stereo. 'That sounds like one of Cat's tapes!' He pressed the eject button and glanced at the front of the tape. He winced at the sight of her familiar handwriting and the tape's label.

"Enjoyin' yourself, brother?" He snarled, flipping the tape into Chibs' lap.

"I wuz curious, bruther. Wondered whut kind o' moosic makes 'er think o' ya, that's all. How's she doin'?"

"What do you think? She's in pain!"

Chibs nodded. "Didn't expect any major changes. Stopped at the coffeehouse. It's busy. The nomads'll be keepin' an eye on tha place. Her staff'll be safe."

Tig nodded but his expression discouraged any further conversation. Chibs dropped him near the clubhouse and left to pick up more people looking to the club for protection.

The clubhouse was buzzing with activity when he walked in. Tig passed everyone and headed directly to the chapel. He saw Kozik leaning against a far wall, and caught the Tacoma Sergeant at Arms' hateful grin.

Tig ignored him and stalked into the chapel, where he found several huge boxes waiting for him. "That the ammo?" he growled, stalking to the table where the boxes were stacked. One large box was labeled with a lot number and the word 'TEETH' in large black letters. Two other boxes, just as large, were stacked on the floor. A large number of smaller white boxes lay on the table.

Clay was standing at the conference table, checking out the small array of guns. "You look like shit. Glad Cat woke up," Clay paused in his work long enough to hug his friend. "Appreciate your help. I know you'd rather be with her."

"She understands," Tig replied. "Hell, she knew I'd be havin' to leave before _I_ did. She figured it out for herself."

Clay nodded. 'I'm not surprised. That's the way she is. Reminds me of Gemma in that respect.' He intended to make sure Cat stayed just as safe as if she were at the clubhouse.

The two worked in silence, oblivious to the growing activity outside the chapel. Tig took comfort in the work. It kept his mind off where his heart wanted to be.

The last few family members and friends of the club were arriving. Charter members lined the roof of the clubhouse, AK's at the ready, as the vehicles pulled into the drive and were directed to parking places. The garage van, driven by Chibs, and Tara's Oldsmobile were the last vehicles to pull in. Jax signaled the guards to close the gates.

Clay and Tig finished inspecting the bullets and guns. Clay was thinking of what he would say. His remarks would be brief. He noticed Tig reach for the prepaid and knew he was calling Cat's room. It was important she hear what he had to say.

* * *

Zobelle pounced on Weston as soon as Ule retreated to the storeroom.

"I gather that you masterminded the ambush on Miss Marshall last night?"

"Damn straight! I planned _and _executed it! There's nothing you can do about it, either!" Weston announced proudly.

"AJ, AJ, you keep missing the big picture," Zobelle replied tiredly. "I_ told_ you that Miss Marshall and her rally were nothing for you to be concerned over. Had you waited - "

"You talk a lot," Weston interrupted angrily, "but you don't seem to be doing much about The Cause these days. What I did, I did for the good of The Cause!"

Zobelle shook his head. "Ah, AJ! What you did will set the cause back as opposed to benefitting it! The town supports Miss Marshall. The populace will _not_ be pleased with us if they learn we had anything to do with her injuries."

"I took steps to protect LOAN! No one will ever know that we were involved!" Weston grated.

"I sincerely hope that is the case, AJ. I have business to attend to at the church. Please mind the store. I will return later." Zobelle called to the back of the store for Ule to join him, and the pair strode out the door to Zobelle's Mercedes.

Weston watched the Mercedes pull away from the curb, then pulled his cellphone and called his accomplices. 'Never hurts to be careful, and having someone here to watch my back in Zobelle's absence!'

Ule shifted in the Mercedes' driver seat, trying to get comfortable. He'd overheard Zobelle's conversation with Weston about the ambush on the Marshall woman. He was worried. "Weston appears to be getting more out of control with each passing day."

Zobelle sighed tiredly. "I did not expect Weston would act on his own. I am no more pleased with this development than you are, Ule."

"What are we going to do?"

"Adjust and adapt," Zobelle replied. "We continue to keep AJ out of the loop pertaining to our other business ventures. If he continues in this same unpredictable manner, we eliminate him. For now, we proceed with our business as usual and remain watchful."

"I have a really bad feeling about this," Ule replied.

"I appreciate your sentiments, Ule. We cannot bring AJ up to speed on our endeavors with the Mayans. He would neither appreciate nor understand that the end will justify the means. He would only see our more lucrative ventures as betrayal to the cause he holds so dear. There are times, Ule, when ignorance can be a blessing."

"I hope you're right," Ule murmured. He was barely able to suppress a shudder. He felt as if someone or something had just stepped on his grave.

* * *

Stone Coyote answered the phone on the first ring. "Yeah?"

"It's Tig."

"She's OK, man. Woke up once when the nurse came through to remove the IV. She knew me right off. She's been asleep since the nurse left."

"Need you to wake her. Now. Carefully."

Stone Coyote laid the receiver down and Trager could hear him speaking. "Hey, Puddy Cat, can you wake up? Tig's on the phone for ya."

He heard her moan, then heard the receiver being moved. "Hey, love," she was groggy, but her voice sounded stronger than when she'd come to earlier that morning.

"Hey back," he replied. "Clay's about to speak. Can you stay awake for a bit?"

"Yeah, I can manage."

"I'm going to put the phone in my cut pocket, right next to my heart," he replied. He nodded to Clay. 'Those are the same words she said to me when I called her at her mom's graveside.'

On her end of the line, Cat smiled at her man's comment, remembering when she'd said the same words to him. Frosty held the receiver to her ear for her as her right arm was sore and bruised from the IV insertion and it hurt her to bend it to hold the receiver.

Tig and Clay walked out of the chapel to a full house. There hadn't been so many people in the clubhouse since Bobby's homecoming. The moms and children outnumbered the croweaters and strippers.

Jax caught Tig's eye and made a slashing signal across his throat. Tig whistled loudly, putting two fingers to his mouth to amplify the sound. He heard Cat's muffled "Yeowtch!" and knew the pitch had hurt her sensitive ears.

He hollered for everyone to pay attention, earning another muffled groan from her. 'Sorry, babe,' he thought, wishing he didn't have to add to her discomfort.

The stereo was shut off and everyone turned their attention to Clay. Trager saw Kozik sitting in a corner and moved as far away from him as the clubhouse allowed while still allowing Cat to hear. Kozik rewarded Tig's efforts with a sardonic grin.

Clay welcomed the gathering to 'Club Reaper'. His remark that they were booked to capacity received a subdued laugh. He explained why they were there and what might be happening in the next few hours or days. He instructed that no one would leave without an escort and pointed out Piney, who was in charge of safety and Gemma, in charge of everyone's comfort.

Tig heard steady breathing coming from the phone. He thought Cat might have drifted off to sleep and tapped his pocket.

"Dammit! Can he _possibly_ make any more ear splittin' noises?" he heard her complain to her companions. He thought he heard Frosty laugh.

"Too many people have been hurt on my watch," Clay continued, gazing at Gemma and Chibs. "No more. I love you all." He stepped away from the pool table to embrace Gemma. A smattering of applause met Clay's words. Whatever lay ahead, the gathering knew the Sons would keep them safe.

Tig stood next to Piney, one hand against a post. The post and his arm blocked his view of Kozik. As Clay's comments ended, Kozik leaned forward in his seat to him to stare coldly at Tig.

'Why the Hell did Clay have to call in Tacoma? He _knew_ Kozik would seize on the chance to cause trouble! We don't need help that badly!' Tig glared in Kozik's direction, but the Tacoma man had already leaned back in his chair.

The charter leaders and the club would be meeting shortly to discuss strategy. Tig went outside to speak privately with Cat. "Still with me, babe?" he spoke quietly into the phone. He leaned against the wall near the boxing ring, well away from the guards on the roof, satisfied that he wouldn't be overheard.

"Yeah. Tell Clay this wasn't his fault, will ya?"

"I'll pass it along when I get the chance. By the way, do you know how sexy you look with your eye surrounded by black and blue? Reminds me of a raccoon mask."

"It don't feel very sexy, love."

Unser had wandered outside, looking for Trager. He saw Tig on the cell and had an idea who the biker was talking to. He gave Trager a small nod in response to the rider's inquiring glare.

"Baby, Unser's here. I gotta talk to him. You rest."

"I'll see ya when I see ya, love," she replied in a voice that wavered a bit.

"Anything we need to know, Tig?" Frosty's voice was on the other end of the line.

'The man's quick on the uptake, using my nickname in front Stone Coyote.' he mused. "Can you call the coffeehouse and get her some decent joe? I'm too tied up to do it."

"You got it."

Trager turned off the phone and faced Unser. "What?"

"A couple of men matching your description paid cash for a truck at my competitor yesterday morning. Surveillance shows Weston returned that truck last night. Surveillance from a 24 hour car and truck wash off the highway revealed a truck matching the one you described drove in with two men and later a truck matching the rental drove out with Weston at the wheel. Lodi CSI is going to take a print of the tires to compare to the ones they found not far from the scene of the wreck."

"What's the bad news?"

"The truck was clean. No prints on any part of it. It reeked of paint remover, and in some places, someone was a little careless and took off too much of the original paint. On the plus side, we found a bullet stuck in the tailgate. I suspect it matches your personal gun."

'Damn! I was aiming at the tire!' Trager was elated that he'd been right about Weston, but pissed that there still wasn't enough to completely tie him to the attack on Cat. "So we're back to square one – no proof that Weston was involved."

"Nothing that Charming PD can use," Unser acknowledged. "There's something else you need to know. I found out about it from Hale this morning before I got here."

"What?" Tig growled when Unser paused.

"Apparently LOAN tailed her when she got back from Stockton. She told Hale about a Ford pickup following her from the county line to Rosen's office. Weston's Bronco followed her from there and Weston tried to confront her at a traffic light. She got away and drove straight to headquarters. We received a few calls about her reckless driving to get away from the asshole."

Tig felt a sense of deja vu. 'This sounds familiar, but Cat never said anything – Shit!' His eyes widened in shock. He remembered exactly where he'd heard the news before.

Unser could see that the biker was getting upset. "She was closer to CPD than here when it happened, Tig," he hastened to console the SAA. "Otherwise, she would've come to you."

"But she didn't call!"

"By the time it was safe for her to call, the danger was already over and she was with Hale," Unser consoled him. "Hale said she was cool as a cucumber when she arrived at headquarters. I'm glad she woke up."

Tig glared up at the police chief. "How the Hell did you know that?"

Unser laid an understanding hand on the rider's shoulder. "Because you're here. I know you wouldn't be if she was still comatose."

Trager relaxed. "So am I, man."

Chibs came out of the clubhouse looking for him. He saw Trager with Unser and gave him a signal that he needed to join the meeting. Unser preceded the two into the chapel.

Trager walked into the chapel, followed by Chibs. Trager proclaimed the ammo was ready; they just needed the guns. The MC were sitting in their regular seats, charter officers lined the room around them. To Tig's disgust, Kozik was standing directly across the table from his chair.

'I'll smack that grin right off his face if he keeps it up,' Trager thought angrily.

They discussed the best way to get their guns from the safe house and cement the club's claim that the Hayes were siding with the Feds. The Sons also fine tuned their plan to sow further seeds of distrust between Weston and Zobelle.

Once the details were worked out, the men left the chapel. Chibs, Bobby, Clay, and Tig were among the last to leave, having discussed Prospect's patching in. His year was nearly over; patching in might just help make up for the disappointment Half-Sack obviously felt over losing the implant.

As they left the chapel, Kozik stepped up to Clay, offering Tacoma's help. He then turned to Tig with a snide comment.

Though he wanted to punch Kozik in the face, Tig mumbled appreciation for the man's help. Kozik merely continued grinning until Trager finally snarled, "Wanna kiss?" Kozik knew he'd scored a point against Tig and walked off with a satisfied smirk.

Tig wasn't happy about Kozik's presence and said as much to Clay. There wasn't much he could do about it. Kozik was there, he'd just have to make the best of it. He walked over to Piney and asked the old man for a moment.

Piney looked at him, both men remembering that just a couple of days earlier, Piney had tried to shoot Clay – and why.

"I need a favor, for Cat." Tig stated quietly.

"What is it?"

"Please don't send Kozik to guard her."

Piney stared at the rider in surprise. 'Tig? Saying please? Did Hell freeze over?'

Trager saw the confusion on Piney's face. "It's for Cat's safety, man. Kozik is bad news for me, that makes him bad news for her."

"I hear ya, Tigger. No worries."

"I owe you, old man."

'More than you know,' Piney thought.

* * *

While Jax, Opie, and Juice went to confront Weston, Chibs contacted Fiona and arranged for the two of them to talk privately. 'Not an easy thin' fer 'er ta do, but she kin manage it.'

She agreed to meet him at an interstate rest stop outside Charming. She was waiting outside the restrooms when he rode up. There were a few people about; a family taking a break from their travels and one man leaving the men's room. Otherwise, they were alone.

They walked into the women's restroom and Chibs locked the door behind them. He quickly explained the situation to Fiona, inviting her to come to the club where she could be protected.

Fiona didn't think there was any way to be protected from Jimmy's retribution. She'd taken a considerable risk in going to meet alone with Chibs. There was no way she could count on the Sons to protect her in California, though she was grateful that SAMBEL would protect Carrieanne.

Chibs had never stopped loving his wife and daughter. Losing them to Jimmy O'Phelan all those years ago had left a large hole in his heart. He feared for both of his girls, and wished things were different.

Fiona gazed sadly at her husband. They'd never formally ended their marriage, but that was just on paper. She was Jimmy's property now. She looked at her husband's face, saw the care and concern in his features. 'I still love ya, too, me bhoy.'

Before either of them were aware of it, they were kissing and holding each other. It'd been so long, surely, just one time, they could truly be together!

"This ain't exactly whut I wanted fer ya, Fi," Chibs whispered.

"It's relatively clean and secluded. Jimmy doesn't hafta know, darlin'. It's not like we haven't picked unusual places before!"

His lips closed over hers again as they melted to the floor.

* * *

Clay, Tig, and Bobby met with Jimmy O'Phelan to arrange the retrieval of their guns from the safe house. Bobby explained how Zobelle had taken over the IRA's gun deal with the Sons, giving Jimmy the surveillance photos the ATF had taken of the Hayes's meeting with Zobelle.

Clay added that Edmond had already given up his father to the feds while the club had stayed loyal. The pictures were enough to make Jimmy believe the Sons so that he agreed to help them retrieve their guns from the safe house.

The next meet was with Laroy and Lin about Zobelle. Tig was getting antsy as the pre-paid had been too quiet for too long. There'd been no message from Cat, Frosty, or the charter.

Clay knew his friend was getting worried, he had enough protection from Jax and the nomads that he could spare Tig. "Go check on her, give her our love."

Tig was on his way to St. Thomas before Clay had a chance to draw a new breath.

Weston's two henchmen pulled up and parked directly behind Weston's Bronco a few minutes after his call.

"Any problems destroying the stuff?"

"None at all. We weren't followed. We drove into the next county and buried the stuff. No traces. No tails. No problems."

"Zobelle give you any shit?" The driver of the truck asked.

"None that I couldn't handle. He's not happy that I acted against his wishes, but there's nothing he can do about it."

"He's been keepin' you out of the loop a lot lately," the second henchman noted.

Weston glared at him. "I know. That's why I acted last night. To remind Zobelle who he's dealing with."

The roar of three Harley engines demanded their attention. The trio looked out the door to see a triad of Harleys park in front of the store. As Jax, Opie and Juice dismounted, Weston and his crew stalked rapidly out the door to confront them.

After a bit of male attitude exchanged between Jax and Weston, the Sons delivered their news to Weston, not caring that other members of the Aryan Brotherhood would learn that their leader was more dedicated to assisting the Hispanics move white powder than in leading the white power movement.

Having planted the seeds of doubt, the Sons left to allow their planting to germinate. Weston stared after their retreating backs, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"AJ, is this true? Could Zobelle really be working against us?"

Weston continued glaring at the spot where Jax Teller had stood just a moment ago. "I don't know, but I intend to find out." He strode angrily to his Bronco.

"Where the Hell are you going?"

"I'm going to the storehouse, to find out if Teller is telling the truth, or trying to cause trouble! Stay here, mind the store! When Zobelle gets back, say nothing about this to him, and call me!"

The pair nodded and returned to the empty store as Weston sped away from his parking spot.

* * *

Stone Coyote glanced up sharply when the room door opened, his hand moving to his gun. He relaxed at the sight of Tig in the doorway. "She's OK, man. Still sleeping. The doc's been through, checked her eye and replaced the bandage. Says it's free of infection."

"I know, the nurse filled me in," Tig moved toward the bed, his eyes fixed on his woman. He saw that both the foam collar and the collection bag were gone. 'I'll bet she's glad about that.'

In daylight, the multicolored cuts and bruises looked much worse. It renewed his desire to bring pain to Weston and his buddies.

"Mind if I go get sumthin' to eat?"

"Go ahead. I've got to leave in two hours. Got it?"

"Got it." Stone Coyote replied. He wanted to go back to the coffeehouse to make sure things were OK there. 'I wanna show my support to a SAMCRO business, and I owe it to Puddy Cat to keep her people safe.'

"Where's Frosty?"

"He asked for directions to the coffeehouse. He said he'd bring back some joe for her. I'm heading there myself. Want anything?"

"Nah." Trager removed his knife and boots and lay down beside her. It was encouraging that her eye wasn't infected, but he was still worried about her. His slid his arm gently beneath her head.

She sighed in her sleep and snuggled against him. 'I hate to do it, but I gotta wake her, hear her voice, to make sure that she's OK.' He raised her chin with his free hand and kissed her.

She stirred again, stretched and opened her eye. "Hey, " she whispered. "You're back."

"Hey back," he replied. "For a little bit."

"How's everythin' goin'?"

"Quiet. Unser said there's video of Weston returning a truck – a very _clean_ truck – to a rental place. Not enough for Unser or Hale to make an arrest."

"But good enough for SAMCRO justice," she murmured.

"Yeah."

"I keep fallin' asleep. Probably borin' Stone Coyote to tears."

He kissed the top of her head. "Don't worry. It's his job to be bored. _I_ got worried when nobody called."

"My fault," she murmured. "I told 'em not to bother you. I felt you needed to keep your mind on business."

"Consider your orders countermanded," he growled. "I'd rather get a message from the charters, Frosty, or you then go without. No matter how inconsequential it might be. Hourly. Understand?"

"Yassir," she replied, and her eye closed as she drifted off to sleep.

The door opened, making Tig tense and look up. He relaxed to see Rev. Bush in the doorway.

"Guess I should have knocked," he said apologetically. "Didn't mean to startle you." He motioned the rider to stay where he was, moving further into the room and to the other side of Cat's bed, where the men could see each other.

"How is she?"

"Doped up. She did too much last night when she came to. I let her -"

"Because you were so relieved," Bush interjected.

Trager indicated the chair behind the minister. "Take a load off."

"Windover says they're being very tight lipped at CPD. Any news?"

"Not if you're sharing it," Tig replied.

"I understand your caution. I'm not fishing for the reporter. Just asking as a friend of the family."

Trager studied the minister's face, but he didn't find anything to make him question the man's integrity. "It was definitely the League. There's evidence, but not enough for the cops to work with."

"Is she still in danger? I heard the garage is locked up and armed riders are on the roof."

"Word travels fast," Trager replied grimly. "She's safe."

"Anything I can do to help?"

Tig smiled at the idea of a man of God sitting in the hospital with a shotgun in his lap. "No offense, Chris, I've got her safety covered. If you want to keep her company, I've cleared you with the charters that are guarding her."

Though the two had been talking softly, Cat heard them. She opened her eye. "Y'all just love to talk about me in front of my back, don't ya?"

"Didn't mean to wake you, baby," he wished for only a moment they didn't have company.

"Who are you talkin' to?" she raised her head slightly to look at their visitor. Her eye met with Chris' shock and despair over her appearance.

It was his first chance to see the injuries up close. He hadn't expected to see all the cuts and bruises on her face, and he involuntarily winced. "Oh, Cat!"

"Guess I give _The Phantom of the Opera_ a little competition," she sighed. "No one's let me see a mirror, the one that's _supposed_ to be in the table seems to have gone walkabout," She glared at Trager, who returned it with a very innocent expression.

"Hell, babe, _no __one_ looks like a fashion plate after a wreck. I didn't want you all worked up over something that doesn't matter and will heal."

"You're right, love, as always," she replied, too tired to argue about it. Her eye closed again.

He gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, thinking over the minister's offer to visit Cat. 'I can't be here all the time. Her comment bugs me. Maybe it'd be a good idea to have another friend around; take her mind off shit that doesn't matter. Provided he doesn't upset her again!' Alex glared over her head at the minister for alarming her, even though it was accidental on his part.

"I'm sorry, Tig. I wasn't prepared for the extent of her injuries. It's one thing to hear about 'em, it's another to see 'em up close for the first time. I'm sure you felt the same way when you first saw her."

Trager nodded, his anger already abating. "Yeah, I did. It's OK."

Bush stood up, knowing he was one too many in the room. Though it wasn't spoken between them, the minister had a good idea why Teller - Morrow was locked up, and why Cat was being guarded. He didn't want to know anymore than he had to.

"Good luck," he said, laying a hand on Cat's head before he left. "I'll see myself out."

"Thanks, Rev."

The door closed behind the minister at the same moment Cat awoke again.

"Quit fighting the shit. Sleep," he ordered.

"Don't want to miss any time with you," she winced.

"When's the last time you had a dose?"

"Accepted a pill this mornin' after you left. It stays with me awhile," she held his hand in hers, preventing him from ringing for the nurse. "Don't. Not now. At least not until you leave again."

He stroked her hair, wishing she wouldn't put up such a brave front. 'I know she's hurtin'. Hell, I've seen so-called tough guys cry over having a splinter removed, and here she's pretending it doesn't hurt.' He shifted slightly, moving so that he could look her directly in her good eye. "I gotta ask you something, baby. Are you pretending to be OK with me leaving you with the charters because you think it's what I want to hear?"

Her eye gazed at him through the swelling and bruising. "Is that what you think?"

He grimaced at her evasive inquiry. "I think you're scared and would like me to stay but don't wanna make things difficult for me."

"Alex, love, you're so far off base you're not even in the right ballpark. I learned my lesson long ago. That's why I told you everything about losin' Bill, so you'd understand why I don't give you shit. The club is what and who you are. You can't do your job and babysit me." A ghost of her impish grin crossed her face as she added, "Besides, you were here when it counted most."

Alex gazed intently into her eye, which met his without flinching. He knew then that she wasn't putting up a front with him. "Damn you," he replied softly. "You're too good for me."

"You're welcome," she sighed in conotentment.

The same aide from earlier in the morning brought in another tray, placed it on the table, and left again without acknowledging Tig. He ignored the snub.

"I've figured out that some of the staff don't know how to handle all y'all," Cat murmured after the door closed behind the aide.

"I've hadn't noticed," he replied dryly. "Are you hungry? You didn't eat much at breakfast, y'know."

"A little."

He raised the bed until they were reclining, and moved the table towards them, lifting the covers from the plates. The same coffee was on the tray, along with the container of milk. He opened the container, placed a straw in the container, and handed it over to her, allowing her to drink on her own.

"Thanks. I was afraid you were going to try to feed me." She sipped the milk while trying to make out what was on the plate. "It sucks not bein' able to see clearly. No sense in puttin' the glasses over all these bandages."

"There's a bowl of soup, a sandwich, and jell-o," he explained. "Which do you want first?"

"How about some decent coffee?" asked a voice from the door.

"You'd have felt funny if you'd walked in and found us doing something besides having lunch!" Tig snarled at the newcomer.

"Then you should learn to lock the door, or at least block it," Frosty replied with a grin. "Hi, kitten!" he added to Cat.

"Hey, Frost. Who's minding the studio?"

"My comrades on air. I took a personal day. Nice to see you awake for once."

"Don't get used to it," Tig replied warningly. "Before I leave again, she's getting more pain medicine. No argument."

"Yassir!" she saluted with her left hand, as her right still held the milk container.

Frosty walked to the dresser, placed a drink carrier on it and handed a tall cup to Alex. He turned to retrieve the other two cups, and placed one on the table beside the tray. A straw was sticking out of the lid. "Your staff said this is your favorite flavor, and made it with the whiskey blend," he explained. "It ain't orthodox, but I figure it'd be the easiest way for you to drink it. Think I got too much for you."

She smiled up at him. "No worries, darlin'. This will last me the rest of the day." She took a long, appreciative sip, enjoying the taste of the white mocha blended with her whiskey flavored beans. The warmth of the liquid was a balm to her sore teeth.

"Heaven!" she sighed. 'I was afraid Alex would go all territorial like he had at the reunion.' She relaxed as her man related easily with her old friend. There was no green-eyed monster present. 'Course, he's more in control of the situation – if anyone can call this situation under control – then he was in Terre Haute. He's more secure about _us_," she observed.

She was still experiencing a lot of pain, but despite the after effects of the last pain pill, she fought the urge to sleep. Frosty had come a long way to see her, and Alex's time to be with her was short; she wanted to make every minute count. She'd nodded off several times during this latest visit of Alex's and was annoyed with herself for it.

"How'd you know I'd be here?" Trager asked, gratefully sipping his own whiskey flavored black coffee.

"I didn't. Just took a chance that you'd take every spare moment to stop in to check on her. If you weren't here, one of us would drink it" He cast a sideways glare at Cat and added, "We wanted to check in with you, but Cat forbid it after your call. Said you needed to be left alone to concentrate on business. You know how her temper gets when she's riled."

Trager nodded. "That's been changed. I expect a message every hour from you or the charters," he provided the prepaid number to Frosty while Cat glared reproachfully at the pair.

"Everyone at the coffeehouse says 'hi', Cat," Frosty added. "The nomads and charters have been keeping the place busy, and I met a lot of the locals. Everyone's pretty upset over your injuries. There's talk of a boycott against a store called '_Impeccable Smokes_'."

"That's the place owned by Zobelle, leader of the white hate group," Tig supplied.

"I gathered that from the podcast. I think you've managed to make things _very_ uncomfortable for that guy."

Alex handed her the cup of soup. She grinned at the smell of the 'Yiddish penicillin' known as chicken soup. She shook her head when Alex offered the sandwich. It was ham and cheese and required too much effort for her to eat. "You eat it, love. Chewing hurts. I wish they'd give me softer foods for the next meal."

The three relaxed over their drinks and lunch, Frosty related how he kept awake during the long drive from LA to Charming. "I played a lot of stuff from our Terre Haute days, including an old tape of some of our routines," he added. "Sure brought back some good memories."

The door opened to admit a new charter guard, who introduced himself as Greyrider. That reminded Cat that Alex would be leaving soon.

"There's a lot going on during the next few hours, baby. I expect an update message every hour. _No_ excuses."

"Yes, dear," she meekly replied.

He frowned at her demure answer, not sure if she was making light of the situation. 'She's never called me 'dear' before!' His voice took on a growl as he added, "I mean it!"

"We'll keep you posted, Tig," Greyrider assured him. "From what I've heard, once she's taken the pain meds, she's out for awhile. You'll be kept in the loop."

"I'd better be. Cat, don't you think you should ask for a pill now?"

She shook her head.

He ran his hand through his hair. "A'right." He decided he'd talk with the nurse on his way out. 'I don't wanna argue with ya, babe. Not in front of company. I'll just make sure you get what you need from the nurses, whether you want it or not.'

He stared at Frosty and Greyrider, who quickly got the message and left the room.

"We'll be right outside, kitten," Frosty assured her.

Once the door closed, Alex brushed her cheek with his hand and kissed her goodbye. "It might be late tonight before I get back. But I _will _be back."

"I'm countin' on it, love," she replied quietly.

"Rest, babe."

"See ya when I see ya."

He slid from the bed and put his boots and knife back on. Then he walked to the closet, reached in the bag, and withdrew her ring and chain. He walked to the door, turned, and looked back at her. He saw her shift in the bed and wince with pain. She didn't realize that he'd turned to watch her, as her bandages blocked the view.

'I knew she was faking!' he nodded and quietly exited the room. 'She's always tryin' to make things easy for me. I've gotta get her to realize that she needs to start tellin' me things, not keep 'em from me!'

Frosty and Greyrider were standing just down the hall. Alex motioned Frosty to join him, and the two walked away while Greyrider vanished into Cat's room.

"What's up, Alex?"

He reached into his shirt and withdrew the chain with his ring on it. He pulled it over his head and added it to the one in his hand, extending them both to Frosty.

"Are these what I think they are?"

"Yeah. I wanna have them fixed so we can wear 'em all the time," Alex replied. He withdrew a slip of paper from his wallet, a page from a catalog he'd leafed through some time ago. He'd circled two designs that had interested him.

"I'd thought about getting these as a present for Cat, but she doesn't wear a lot of jewelry. This design," he pointed to a ring with the visage of a snarling panther, the words '_My Cat is My Heart_' were printed beside it with an arrow pointing to the inside of the ring, "is for my ring. The eyes need to be her birthstone."

He pointed to another design of two cats, one larger than the other, sitting next to each other with tails entwined. The smaller cat's head rested against the larger one's body. The cats had collars, he'd marked the larger 'garnet' and the smaller 'blue topaz'.

"Cat's ring," Frosty observed. "Why tell me?"

"Because I want you to take these with you, have 'em redone in LA, and get 'em back here ASAP."

"I'm a radio man, not a jeweler, Alex. I can't say that it can be done in a couple of days. There are a lot of jewelers in LA, but I wouldn't take those just anywhere to be done."

"I trust you, man," Alex replied, placing the rings, chains, and paper in the broadcaster's hand and closing that hand over them. He held Frosty's hand closed with his own hand. It was both a handclasp and a plea.

Frosty looked at the hand covering his closed one, felt the cool metals in his palm. He looked into Trager's tired, bruised face. "This means a lot to you. We can settle up when I bring 'em back."

Alex nodded. "No rubies and sapphires, man. Not that she ain't worth it, but she'll get upset over the expense. I wouldn't ask except – "

"LA is a long way from Charming. It protects you both. The modifications will let you two wear the symbol of your marriage. I get it."

"You're Cat's friend. That's the other reason I'm asking. How much longer are you staying?"

"Just until this evening. I gotta be back on air in the morning."

"She's sleeping a lot, but with me gone, she needs a friendly face she trusts. She accepts the charters 'cause she played a pick-up basketball game with them recently, but your presence will give her comfort."

"Be glad to. I meant to ask, did you call her family?"

"Yeah, I talked to her dad. He and her step-brother are the only other people I cleared with the switchboard to be given the room telephone number. Be sure to take the number with you, so you can call her."

"I will. Be careful out there, Alex. You mean the world to her."

"I always am," he replied. The two shook hands, then he strode determinedly to the nurses' station. Not only would he relay Cat's request for a soft diet for the evening meal, but he would also ask them to bring her more pain medicine. He coughed back a lump that had formed in his throat from Frosty's declaration. 'As if I didn't already know how she feels. After last night, it's nice to hear it affirmed.'

* * *

Zobelle drove himself back to his cigar store after dropping Ule off at the storehouse and making sure the two Latino workers understood the job they were being paid to do. He left assured that his good money bought not only their services, but their silence as well.

"Any customers?" he asked of the two Aryans standing on either side of the back storeroom door. No one else was present.

The driver shook his head. There'd been no customers in the store since it opened.

"Where is AJ?"

"He had an errand. He asked us to mind the store until your return," the driver of the rental truck replied tersely.

"Now that you're here, we're leaving," the other added, striding past Zobelle.

The driver glared at Zobelle as he passed the businessman. 'If what the bikers said is true, you are dead!'

The two climbed into the battered Ford pickup and drove away. The passenger opened his cellphone and dialed Weston.

"Zobelle back?"

"Yes. What did you find out?"

"Not on a cell. Meet me at the gas station outside town. We'll talk there."

The passenger closed his cellphone and told the driver where they were meeting Weston.

"It doesn't sound good."

When they reached the gas station, Weston was waiting. He explained that the Sons had provided accurate information about the guns and the drugs. "I killed Ule and the wetback workers," he added.

"Ule was a traitor to The Cause," the driver affirmed, loading his gun.

"Just like Zobelle. Are you ready to exact justice?" Weston asked, his intense eyes bright with anger.

"Let's go."

* * *

Tig returned to the clubhouse to find that a phoenix of sorts had risen from the ashes of the Caracara fire. Chucky Marston had turned up at the gate to the garage, and Tara was treating the burns on his hands.

Clay and Jax walked in as Tara finished treating Chucky's other hand. Clay was bemused that Chucky seemed harder to kill than a cockroach. Piney explained that Chucky had seen who'd torched the studio.

Bobby reminded them that the insurance adjuster wasn't willing to settle on the damages unless it could be proved that SAMCRO had nothing to do with the fire.

Jax discussed having Chucky make a signed witness statement about the fire with Unser. They also decided to move Weston's kids from juvie to Child Protective Services as another way to rattle Weston. That was the next move intended to upset the dominoes that was LOAN.

As Chucky was giving his statement, Unser learned about the two Latino women and an Aryan being killed. Hale advised him that both a cache of Russian AK's and a large quantity of heroin were found with the bodies. Hale believed the Sons had committed the murders. Unser knew better, though he couldn't tell Hale how he knew. Unser shared the news with Jax by phone.

Jax felt bad about that. 'I don't give a shit about the Aryan. I'm sorry two innocents had to die, even if they were processing 'H'. Sometimes collateral damage can't be avoided'

Unser called the prepaid to warn the Sons that CPS was on the way to headquarters, meaning Weston would be arriving there soon to rescue his kids. Unser had arranged for Weston's kids to be able to call their father to advise him of their relocation.

Jax, Opie, and Juice rode out to HQ just in time to see the CPS van pull away. Weston seethed as the riders pulled to a stop and walked up to him. Jax lay down the gauntlet, a fight at 8pm at Timberland. No weapons. Weston agreed.

Unser brought Chucky back to the clubhouse after he gave his statement. Trager, who'd been avoiding Kozik like the plague, caught up with Chucky outside the clubhouse to talk.

"I heard about your old lady getting hurt," Marston remarked. "I'm sorry. I understand LOAN did it."

"Yeah, but she's alive. How'd you manage to escape the fire? I know you were crashing at the studio."

Chucky shrugged. "I listened and watched. After Weston and his goon left, I managed to drag the guy they knocked out from the building then ran off to find a phone. That's how I got my hands burned."

"Why the Hell didn't you call the clubhouse, man? Let someone know you were alive?" Tig replied with a growl.

'I owe this guy my life. He's the first true friend I've made on the outside. Nice to know he was concerned' Chucky smiled inwardly. "I didn't think anybody here would care if I lived or died. I was afraid the authorities would pin the fire on me, so I laid low for awhile."

Tig nodded. 'That's what Cat told me he was prolly doin'! I shoulda known she was right!'

"Then I figured you guys might need to know what I saw the night of the fire," Chuckie added. "I came over and found out about LOAN and your old lady and everything else."

Tig pinched his nose with his hand. "A'right. Listen, you're out of a job and a place to crash. I have a proposition for ya."

Chucky's expression brightened. "What's the job?"

"First, we could use your help in Galt. We need someone to watch the safe house and the Feds.' Trager outlined the plan to pull a bait and switch on the Feds staking out the safe house.

"I accept that."

Tig laid a hand on the other man's shoulder. "That's short term. My old lady's business needs someone to oversee it. The club has a small percentage in it. While she's got good people, _I_ want someone watching her interests, as well as the club's."

"I accept that. Will she accept it? Will her people?"

Tig glared at the smaller man. "She will. So will her employees. This part she might not like, but I need someone to stay at the house while we're away. LOAN doesn't know about you; you're safe. There's an air mattress in the library you can use. Stay out of the bedroom."

"I accept that."

"She has cats; you might need to take care of 'em in the evening, feed 'em and stuff. Can you do that?"

"I accept that." At Tig's glare at his bandaged hands and two fingers, he added. "If I can feed myself, I can handle feeding the animals. Even if all I can give 'em is dry food."

"The cans are pop top. The dry food's in a can and she uses a cup to measure it into bowls."

"Then I accept that."

"A'right. I'll call her staff and let 'em know." He removed the pre-paid from his pocket and dialed the coffeehouse.

"_Charming Pawse, _Pete speaking."

"Tig here. I've sending a guy over tomorrow, he'll be handling the administrative matters and bookkeeping in Cat's absence. Don't let his injured hands bother ya. He can work in the back office with a calculator. He'll be staying at the house."

Pete knew better than to question Tig. 'The Sons haven't intervened in store matters since Miss Cat gave them the partnership. If Mr. Tig picked this guy, he must be OK with Miss Cat.'

"You there, Pete?" Tig didn't like the silence on the other end of the line.

"Sure, Mr. Tig. That's fine. I'll get some more coffee to Miss Cat later on. We've been kinda busy today."

"Don't doubt it." He closed the pre-paid and shoved it in his pocket. "You're all set, Chucky."

"Don't want to tell ya how to handle your woman, but maybe you should call and tell her what's goin' on?"

Tig grinned ferally. "You're right, you _shouldn't_ tell me how to handle her. You're also right that I should tell her. She's sleepin' a lot right now. It'll keep until later."

Chibs and the other Sons walked out of the clubhouse, ready to ride to Galt. Chucky followed Prospect to the garage van. He and Sack would get some fake flyers printed and meet the others in Galt.

The club was aware that Stahl had Edmond Hayes and the safe house under surveillance. They parked away a block away and sent Chucky ahead on foot under the guise of distributing fliers on the block. He would watch the Feds and let them know when the Feds took the bait.

While Chucky placed fliers under parked vehicle windshield wipers, Jimmy O's Lincoln Navigator backed into the drive of the safe house. Polly Zobelle had just left just a few minutes before Jimmy's arrival.

Without Hayes being aware he was being tricked, Jimmy had his henchman make it appear that the van was being loaded with crates of guns. Then the Lincoln, sans Jimmy O and his bodyguard, left the house. Agent Stahl's sedan followed.

The agents in the Dodge work van parked across from the safe house reported that Jimmy O was in the van. Edmond Hayes was escorted to the van, which followed after Stahl's vehicle.

Chucky called the prepaid and gave the all clear. The Teller - Morrow van and a pack of Harley motorcycles roared down the street. The van backed into the drive as the riders parked their bikes. Jimmy and Clay embraced and the Sons loaded the crates into the back of the van.

Chibs and Jimmy O had a short talk that none of the other Sons overheard. Jimmy O informed Chibs he knew of the visit with Fiona, and there was no use for Chibs' to try to get her away from Jimmy. Fiona belonged to him.

Chibs stared at Jimmy, unable to speak from his rage. 'Fi acted like she still luvs me, she _couldn't_ 'ave told 'im, even though she refused to come wth me! She wouldn't betray me like that! Someone must've followed 'er and told Jimmy, it wouldn't 'ave been 'ard fer 'im ta guess what we talked aboot!'

Half Sack and Chucky returned with the van to the garage, while the remaining Sons rode to the Hayes military surplus store. Their presence there would cement the appearance that Edmond was the weak link in Jimmy's chain.

When they saw the Sons enter the store, the ATF descended enmasse, some to the back of the store where the Lincoln had parked, others in the front, forcing the Sons to the floor.

Agent Stahl walked in as her associates brought out one lone crate and Jimmy's Latino worker. She allowed the Sons to get off the dirty floor and asked about Jimmy's whereabouts.

Chibs earned a smack across the face for telling Stahl that Jimmy wasn't there. The crate was opened to reveal two dead rats, an ominous message from Jimmy.

Though Bobby wanted to have the Galt PD come by to press charges of assault, Stahl released the Sons. 'I have plans for Edmond and Cameron. The Sons are the little fish I can throw back for now.'

* * *

Kozik wasn't happy. Other than the one snide comment he'd gotten off to Tiggy, he'd had no other opportunity to torment the man. 'Tiggy's been avoiding me all day, the bastard! Maybe I should look at another option. One that'll cause him more grief than anything I could say to him now!"

He waited until the Sons and the van took off, then mounted his bike. He knew the Portland charter was guarding Cat Marshall, and knew his way to St. Thomas.

'Time for me to educate Tiggy's old lady!' A grim smile crossed Kozik's face as he rode out the gate. None of Piney's guards questioned his departure, just opened the gate and let him pass. He knew they wouldn't. He smiled in anticipation and headed towards the hospital and his goal of creating chaos in Tig's life.


End file.
